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Page 92 - Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song ; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray.
Page 148 - Who with him the Wasp his companion did bring, But they promised that evening to lay by their sting. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, And led to the feast his blind brother the Mole ; And the Snail, with his horns peeping out from his shell. Came from a great distance, — the length of an ell. A mushroom their table, and on it was laid A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made ; The viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Bee brought his honey to crown the repast.
Page 155 - Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread ; My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord, art with me still ; Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds I stray.
Page 110 - THE BIRD, LET LOOSE. (AIR. — BEETHOVEN. ) THE bird, let loose in eastern skies,* When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam. But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.
Page 104 - Poor dog ! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, And he constantly loved me, although I was poor ; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray. When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old, How snugly we slept in my old coat of gray, And he lick'd me for kindness — my poor dog Tray.
Page 53 - How cheerful along the gay mead The daisy and cowslip appear ! The flocks, as they carelessly feed, Rejoice in the spring of the year.
Page 109 - Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread ; But the same couch beneath Lay a...
Page 92 - The wondering neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every Christian eye ; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light, That show'd the rogues they lied, The man recover'd of the bite, The dog it was that died.
Page 152 - THE Lawns were dry in Euston Park; (Here Truth inspires my Tale;) The lonely footpath, still and dark, Led over Hill and Dale. Benighted was an ancient Dame, And fearful haste she made To gain the vale of Fakenham, And hail its Willow shade. Her footsteps knew no idle stops, But...