The progress of a painter in the nineteenth century. 2 vols. [in 1].

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Strana 91 - And now, behold, the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thou shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a season. And immediately there fell on him a mist and a darkness; and he went about seeking some to lead him by the hand.
Strana 243 - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out.
Strana 119 - Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Strana 179 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Strana 196 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved masonry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate.
Strana 190 - Let me have men about me that are fat ; Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights. Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; He thinks too much : such men are dangerous.
Strana 87 - He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me ? Peter was grieved because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep.
Strana 88 - Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee ; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.
Strana 96 - All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind Along the streams ? or walk the smiling mead ? Or court the forest glades ? or wander wild Among the waving harvests? or ascend, While radiant Summer opens all its pride, Thy hill, delightful Shene*?
Strana 153 - Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep ; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

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