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Página 138 - And they reasoned with themselves, saying, If we shall say, From heaven ; he will say, Why then did ye not believe him ? 32.
Página 133 - Are not my days few? cease then, And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little, Before I go whence I shall not return, Even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; A land of darkness, as darkness itself; And of the shadow of death, without any order, And where the light is as darkness.
Página 6 - A, a: B, b: C, c : D, d : E, e: F, f : G, g : H, h: I, i: J, j : K, k : L, 1 : M, m : N, n...
Página 189 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Página 141 - Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry; For, well-a-day ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead; And he, neglected...
Página 90 - For before that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles: but when they were come, he withdrew and separated himself, fearing them which were of the circumcision.
Página 188 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale; No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear; The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.
Página 154 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Página 62 - Perfect Tense. Singular. Plural. 1. I have been, 1. We have been, 2. Thou hast been, 2. You have been, 3. He has been ; 3. They have been. Pluperfect Tense. Singular. Plural. 1. I had been, 1.
Página 161 - A wizard of such dreaded fame That when, in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame...

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