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Page 687 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 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...
Page 116 - Russian-American territory, together with all and singular the tenements, hereditaments, and appurtenances thereunto belonging, or in any wise appertaining, and the reversion and reversions, remainder and remainders, rents, issues, and profits thereof; and, also, all the estate, right, title, interest, property, possession, claim, and demand whatsoever, as well in law as in equity, of the said party of the first part, of, in, or to the above-described premises, and every part and parcel thereof,...
Page 688 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed 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 329 - Speaker shall, or any member may call to order ; in which case, the member so called to order shall immediately sit down, unless permitted to explain ; and the House shall, if appealed to, decide on the case, but without debate :* if there be no appeal, the decision of the Chair shall be submitted to. If the decision be in favor of the member called to order, he shall be at liberty to proceed ; if otherwise...
Page 775 - Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt By the women o' Morble'ead !" "Hear me, neighbors !" at last he cried, — "What to me is this noisy ride? What is the shame that clothes the skin To the nameless horror that lives within? Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck, And hear a cry from a reeling deck ! Hate me and curse me, — I only dread The hand of God and the face of the dead...
Page 689 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Page 690 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 812 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die, Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred.
Page 778 - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, For were you queen of all that is, I could not stoop to such a mind. You sought to prove how I could love, And my disdain is my reply. The lion on your old stone gates Is not more cold to you than I.
Page 721 - D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish Count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, " Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man to man ; But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my foe : Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.