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She then commenced, and I thought no seraph's voice could be sweeter, as she sang one of Mary Howitt's beautiful translations:
Where is thy victory"? Though this scene would be full, and immortally sublime, and disclose a grandeur which a seraph's eloquence never can describe, yet I take the liberty to dissent from this long and fondly cherished opinion, and will humbly endeavor to present you my views on the immortal resurrection of the human dead.
The tone was perfectly impassive, but the words expressed a world. For a moment the Seraph's eyes flashed on him with a look that made him feel nearer his death than he had been near to it in all his days; but Rockingham restrained himself from force. "I will send for him," he said briefly; in that answer there was more of menace and of meaning than in any physical action.
Cecil, ere the Hebrew could speak, leaned forward, took the check and tore it in two. "God bless you, Rock," he said, so low that it only reached the Seraph's ear, "but you must not do that." "Beauty, you are mad!" cried the Marquis passionately.
On her entrance all present fall back on both sides with the most violent expressions of anguish. MELVIL falls involuntarily upon his knees. Why these complaints? Why weep ye? Ye should rather Rejoice with me, that now at length the end Of my long woe approaches; that my shackles Fall off, my prison opens, and my soul Delighted mounts on seraph's wings, and seeks The land of everlasting liberty.
His own positive and earthly nature attained, for the first time, and as if for its own punishment, the comprehension of that loftier and more ethereal visitant from the heavens, who had once looked with a seraph's smile through the prison-bars of his iron life; that celestial refinement of affection, that exuberance of feeling which warms into such varieties of beautiful idea, under the breath of the earth-beautifier, Imagination, all from which, when it was all his own, he had turned half weary and impatient, and termed the exaggerations of a visionary romance, now that the world had lost them evermore, he interpreted aright as truths.
As though some angels swept the strings, of harps ethereal o'er me hung, and fann'd me, as with seraph's wings, while thus the voices sweetly sung: "Be bold of heart, be strong of will, for unto thee by God is given, to roam the desert paths of earth, and thence explore the fields of heaven. Be bold of heart, be strong of will, and naught on earth shall lay thee low."
I felt stiff and rather desolate. "John!" It was The Seraph's voice. "I say, John! You should be a dwagon, an' when I kick on the door you should woar fwightfully." "Where's she?" 'Twas thus we designated our governess. "Gone away out. Will you be a dwagon, John?" Obligingly I dropped to my hands and knees and ambled to the door. The Seraph kicked it vigorously and I began to roar.
The man had more than his share of that peculiar susceptibility which is one of the characteristics of his countrymen susceptibility to immediate impulse susceptibility to fleeting impressions. It was a key to many mysteries in his character when he owned his subjection to the influence of music, and in music recognised not the seraph's harp, but the siren's song.
You know how it is with Grace her countenance always seemed more fitted for heaven than earth; and now it always reminds me of a seraph's that was grieving over the sins of men!" "I fear, sir, that Rupert's account, then, is true, and that Grace is seriously ill?" "I hope not, boy I fervently pray not!
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