A winter in the Azores, and a summer at the baths of the Furnas, by J. and H. Bullar

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Página 352 - There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. »«»•#» Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found ? Art thou a man ?—a patriot ?—look around : O thou shall find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home. MONTGOMERY.
Página 352 - There is a land of every land the pride, Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. »«»•#
Página 325 - Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wonder'd at, and so my state, Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast, And won by rareness such solemnity.
Página 271 - Here scatter'd like a random seed, Remote from men, thou dost not need The embarrass'd look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefaccdness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer. A face with gladness overspread ! Soft smiles by human kindness bred
Página 233 - many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with
Página 286 - No kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known ; no use of service, Of riches, or of poverty; No
Página 27 - And look at the broad-faced sun how he smiles On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters, and gay young isles ; Aye, look, and he '11 smile thy gloom away.
Página 230 - is no literature to set men thinking,—midnight-oil is never burnt,—a face sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought is not, and no foolish, over-careful Azoreans break their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, their bones with industry.
Página 62 - It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground, And there a season a'tween June and May, A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, No living wight could work, ne cared
Página 156 - So flits the world's uncertain span ; Nor zeal for God, nor love for man, Gives mortal monuments a date Beyond the power of Time and Fate. The towers must share the builder's doom, Ruin is theirs, and his a tomb: But better boon benignant Heaven To Faith and Charity

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