Mores Catholici: Books I-IV

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Page 184 - Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that ? Can it be sin to know ? Can it be death ? And do they only stand By ignorance...
Page 503 - And many nations shall come, and say, Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, And to the house of the God of Jacob ; And he will teach us of his ways, And we will walk in his paths: For the law shall go forth of Zion, And the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
Page 18 - ... he be old, before he shall find sufficient cause to be honest. For his knowledge standeth so upon the abstract and general, that happy is that man who may understand him, and more happy, that can apply what he doth understand.
Page 811 - Before their eyes the wizard lay, As if he had not been dead a day. His hoary beard in silver rolled, He seemed some seventy winters old; A palmer's amice wrapped him round, With a wrought Spanish baldric bound, Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea: His left hand held his Book of Might, A silver cross was in his right; The lamp was placed beside his knee.
Page 491 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild: then silent night, With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
Page 153 - II is no marvel — from my very birth My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth ; Of objects all inanimate I made Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers, And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise, "Whero 1 did lay me down within the shade Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted hours, Though I was chid for wandering...
Page 820 - Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! HUSH'D is the harp — the Minstrel gone.
Page 772 - Avoid thee, fiend! — with cruel hand, Shake not the dying sinner's sand! O look, my son, upon yon sign Of the Redeemer's grace divine; O think on faith and bliss! By many a death-bed I have been, And many a sinner's parting seen, But never aught like this.
Page 756 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt. Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair. And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Page 509 - I never hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry.

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