Jane Seaton, Or, The King's Adventure: A Scottish Historical Romance

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Stringer & Townsend, 1853 - 405 pages
 

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Page 251 - And the soul that turneth after such as have familiar spirits, and after wizards, to go a whoring after them, I will even set my face against that soul, and will cut him off from among his people.
Page 396 - Lord Jesus christ, king of glory, deliver the souls of all the faithful departed from the pains of hell, and from the deep pit.
Page 202 - Give me again my innocence of soul,. Give me my forfeit honour blanch'd anew, Cancel my treasons to my royal master, • , Restore me to my country's lost esteem, To the sweet hope of mercy from above, And the calm comforts of a virtuous heart.
Page 395 - Sibyls say. What horror will invade the mind, When the strict Judge, who would be kind, Shall have few venial faults to find! The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall through the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground. Nature and Death shall, with surprise, Behold the pale offender...
Page 110 - Passage is a game at dice, which some perhaps may comprehend by the following description: " It is played at but by two, and it is performed with three dice. The caster throws continually till he hath thrown doublets under ten, and then he is out and loseth; or doublets above ten, and then he passeth, and wins.— Comp Gam.
Page 393 - Yet silent still she pass'd and unrepining ; Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth, Except when in some bitter pang of sorrow, To Heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise, And beg that mercy man deny'd her here.
Page 393 - Submissive, sad, and lowly was her look; A burning taper in her hand she bore, And on her shoulders carelessly...
Page 62 - Yet is there one the most delightful kind, A lofty jumping, or a leaping round, Where arm in arm, two dancers are entwin'd, And whirl themselves in strict embracements bound, And still their feet an anapest do sound : An anapest is all their musick's song, Whose first two feet is short, and third is long.
Page 383 - The fatal spoils which haughty Turnus tore From dying Pallas, and in triumph wore. Then, rous'd anew to wrath, he loudly cries (Flames, while he spoke, came flashing from his eyes) : "Traitor, dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend ? To his sad soul a grateful off'ring go! 'T is Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow.
Page 383 - Traitor ! dost thou, dost thou to grace pretend, 1370 Clad, as thou art, in trophies of my friend ? To his sad soul a grateful offering go ! 'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives this deadly blow.

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