The reliques of father Prout, collected and arranged by Oliver Yorke (Google eBook)

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Page 34 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Page 217 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Page 216 - Chiare, fresche e dolci acque, ove le belle membra pose colei che sola a me par donna; gentil ramo ove piacque (con sospir mi rimembra) a lei di fare al bel fianco colonna; erba e fior che la gonna leggiadra ricoverse co l'angelico seno; aere sacro sereno ove Amor co' begli occhi il cor m'aperse: date udženzia insieme a le dolenti mie parole estreme.
Page 255 - With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would In the days of childhood Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder Sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Page 180 - Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower...
Page 243 - For, oh, if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this ! There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die ; One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss : And oh...
Page 71 - 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. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel...
Page 197 - He gave the little wealth he had, To build a house for fools and mad: And showed by one satiric touch, No nation wanted it so much: That kingdom he hath left his debtor, I wish it soon may have a better.
Page 94 - There is a stone there That whoever kisses, Oh ! he never misses To grow eloquent. 'Tis he may clamber To a lady's chamber, Or become a member Of Parliament: A clever spouter He'll sure to turn out, or An out-and-outer, "To be let alone.
Page 256 - THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee.

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