5 Quotes by Richard Heber

From Greenland's icy mountains, / From India's coral strand, / Where Afric's sunny fountains / Roll down their golden sand.

What though the spicy breezes / Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, / Though every prospect pleases, / And only man is vile. In vain with lavish kindness / The gifts of God are strown, / The heathen in his blindness / Bows down to wood and stone.

By cool Siloam's shady rill / How sweet the lily grows! / How sweet the breath beneath the hill / Of Sharon's dewy rose!

No gentleman can be without three copies of a book: one for show, one for use, and one for borrowers.

By cool Siloam's shady rill How sweet the lily grows! How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose!