The Book of the Epic: The World's Great Epics Told in Story

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J.B. Lippincott, 1913 - 493 pages
 

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Page 289 - The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend* From off the tossing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbour there...
Page 140 - Through me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved: To rear me was the task of Power divine, Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 19 Before me things create were none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
Page 310 - Which that thou may'st believe, and be confirm'd Ere thou from hence depart, know, I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee, and to thy offspring...
Page 312 - Rarely be found. So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning, till the day Appear of respiration to the just, And vengeance to the wicked...
Page 321 - Wise men have said, are wearisome ; who reads Incessantly, and to his reading brings not A spirit and judgment equal or superior, ( And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek ?) Uncertain and unsettled still remains, Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself, Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys And trifles for choice matters, worth, a sponge ; As. children gathering pebbles on the shore.
Page 468 - Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the kingdom of Ponemah, To the land of the Hereafter ! VOCABULAEY THE SONG OF HIAWATHA.
Page 320 - Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit On David's throne, it shall be like a tree Spreading and overshadowing all the earth, Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash All monarchies besides throughout the world; ' And of my kingdom there shall be no end. Means there shall be to this; but what the means Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell.
Page 411 - His head, as if inquiring what their grief Might mean ; and from his dark, compassionate eyes, The big warm tears roll'd down, and caked the sand. But Rustum chid...
Page 164 - NOW was the hour that wakens fond desire In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell, And pilgrim newly on his road with love Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, That seems to mourn for the expiring day...
Page 469 - Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches Dwells another race, with other customs and language. Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom.

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