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Page 497 - And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of Spring ; It made him whistle, it made him sing ; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float ; Quoth he, " My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inchcape rock, And I'll plague the abbot of Aberbrothok.
Page 425 - WHAT hopes, what terrors, does thy gift create, Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate : The Myrtle, ensign of supreme command, Consign'd by Venus to Melissa's hand; Not less capricious than a reigning fair, Now grants, and now rejects a lover's prayer. In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain: The myrtle crowns the happy lovers...
Page 485 - Cold is the heart, fair Greece ! that looks on thee, Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved ; Dull is the eye that will not weep to see Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed By British hands, which it had best behoved To guard those relics ne'er to be restored.
Page 486 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless ; Minions of...
Page 151 - Where western gales eternally reside, And all the seasons lavish all their pride : Blossoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise, And the whole year in gay confusion lies.
Page 151 - Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound Of parted fragments tumbling from on high ; And from the summit of that craggy mound The perching eagle oft was heard to cry, Or on resounding wings to shoot athwart the sky.
Page 120 - Be dark, bright sun, And make this mid-day night, that thy gilt rays May not behold a deed will turn their splendour More sooty than the poets feign their Styx ! One other kiss, my sister ! Ann.
Page 486 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, . Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 322 - Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair day in the summer, my casement being opened towards the south, the sun shining clear, and no wind stirring, I took my book, De Veritate...