Shirley

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Harper & brothers, 1850 - English fiction - 4 pages
 

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Page 210 - ... age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme A more enduring date : But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case. No voice divine the storm allayed, No light propitious shone, When, snatched from all effectual aid, We perished, each alone : But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.
Page 311 - Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.
Page 397 - A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone, short as the watch that ends the night before the rising sun.
Page 12 - Parthians, and Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judea, and Cappadocia, in Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia, and Pamphylia, in Egypt, and in the parts of Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our tongues the wonderful works of God.
Page 444 - AND it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair ; and they took them wives of all which they chose.
Page 396 - O GoD, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home.
Page 311 - But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed then Eve. And Adam was not deceived ; but the woman, being deceived, was in the transgression ; notwithstanding she shall be saved in child-bearing, if they continue in faith, and charity, and holiness with sobriety.
Page 96 - La coupe en mes mains encore pleine. Je ne suis qu'au printemps — je veux voir la moisson ; Et comme le soleil, de saison en saison, Je veux achever mon annee.
Page 303 - And that is not Milton's Eve, Shirley." "Milton's Eve! Milton's Eve! I repeat. No, by the pure Mother of God, she is not! Gary, we are alone: we may speak what we think. Milton was great; but was he good? His brain was right; how was his heart? He saw heaven: he looked down on hell. He saw Satan, and Sin his daughter, and Death their horrible offspring. Angels serried before him their battalions: the long lines of adamantine shields flashed back on his blind eyeballs the unutterable splendour of...

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