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Page 410 - The tumult and the shouting dies; The captains and the kings depart; Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart: Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget!
Page 25 - And note, that every Parishioner shall communicate at the least three times in the year, of which Easter to be one. And yearly at Easter every Parishioner shall reckon with the Parson, Vicar, or Curate, or his or their Deputy or Deputies ; and pay to them or him all Ecclesiastical Duties, accustomably due, then and at that time to be paid.
Page 13 - Truly England and the Church of God hath had a great favour from the Lord, in this great victory given unto us, such as the like never was since this war began. It had all the evidences of an absolute victory obtained by the Lord's blessing upon the Godly Party principally.
Page 117 - Which the great lord inhabits not; and so This grove is wild with tangling underwood, And the trim walks are broken up, and grass, Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths. But never elsewhere in one place I knew So many Nightingales; and far and near, In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, They answer and provoke each other's songs— With skirmish and capricious passagings, And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, And one low piping sound more sweet than all— Stirring the air with such...
Page 116 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Page 209 - Her lips were red, and one was thin ; Compared to that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly ; But Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze, Than on the sun in July.
Page 208 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound...
Page 117 - Tis of the rushing of an host in rout, With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold! But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence! And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd...
Page 827 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered...