Writings of Hugh Swinton Legaré ...: Consisting of a Diary of Brussels, and Journal of the Rhine; Extracts from His Private and Diplomatic Correspodence; Orations and Speeches; and Contributions to the New-York and Southern Reviews, المجلد 2

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الصفحة 376 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
الصفحة 235 - ... her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power; both angels and men and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all ,with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace and joy.
الصفحة 340 - ... to imbreed and cherish in a great people the seeds of virtue and public civility, to allay the perturbations of the mind, and set the affections in right tune; to celebrate in glorious and lofty hymns the throne and equipage of God's almightiness, and what He works, and what He suffers to be wrought with high providence in His Church; to sing victorious agonies of martyrs and saints, the deeds and triumphs of just and pious nations doing valiantly through faith against the enemies of Christ;...
الصفحة 343 - ... cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play and old men from the chimney corner...
الصفحة 341 - Only the poet, disdaining to be tied to any such subjection, lifted up with the vigour of his own invention, doth 'grow, in effect, into another nature : in making things either better than nature bringeth forth, or quite anew ; forms such as never were in nature...
الصفحة 344 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
الصفحة 376 - My Mother Earth ! And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye. And thou, the bright eye of the universe, That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart.
الصفحة 436 - It is not noon— the Sunbow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
الصفحة 238 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
الصفحة 476 - Mammon led them on, Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell From Heaven; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed In vision beatific.

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