Stonehenge; Or, The Romans in Britain: A Romance Or the Days of Nero, المجلد 1

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الصفحة 228 - Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
الصفحة 125 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach...
الصفحة 110 - In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchaf 'd, as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine And make him stoop to the vale.
الصفحة vii - A lawyer without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working mason ; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture to call himself an architect.
الصفحة 125 - And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake; She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.
الصفحة 279 - Ye shall make you no idols nor graven image, neither rear you up a standing image, neither shall ye set up any image of stone in your land, to bow down unto it: for I am the LORD your God.
الصفحة 296 - Evandale, Whose limbs a thousand years have worn, What sullen roar comes down the gale, And drowns the hunter's pealing horn ? Mightiest of all the beasts of chase, That roam in woody Caledon, Crashing the forest in his race, The Mountain Bull comes thundering on. Fierce, on the hunter's quiver'd band, He rolls his eyes of swarthy glow, Spurns, with black hoof and horn, the sand, And tosses high his mane of snow.
الصفحة 175 - Scarce images of life, one here, one there, Lay vast and edgeways ; like a dismal cirque Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, In dull November, and their chancel vault, The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night.
الصفحة 283 - Then eager caught an axe, and aim'da blow. Deep sunk within a violated oak The wounding edge, and thus the warrior spoke— ' Now let no doubting hand the task decline; Cut you the wood, and let the guilt be mine.
الصفحة 222 - Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path Of the outsallying victors ; far behind Black ashes note where their proud city stood. Within yon forest is a gloomy glen — Each tree which guards its darkness from the day, Waves o'er a warrior's tomb.

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