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Absalom ancient Argentine Asshur battle BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN beautiful beneath blaze blood blow born brave breast breath bright brother brow Brutus burning Caesar Cassius cold cried cuirassier dark dead death deep died doth drum earth England ever—never eyes face fair farewell father fire fleet gallant gleam grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven hill honourable James Merrick king land Lars Porsena light Lochinvar lonely look Lord loud morn mourn N. P. Willis Netherby never Never—for night o'er Oliver Goldsmith once pale poems poet pray pride proud quoth Rebecs roar rolling Romans Rome round sail Samuel Taylor Coleridge ships silent Skiddaw sleep smile snow soldier Somebody's song soon sorrow soul sound Southey spake spear steed stood storm sweet tear tell thee thought Tis green twas voice waves weep wild winds young Lochinvar
Page 31 - And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
Page 175 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Page 53 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Page 125 - Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Page 118 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap. Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 158 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Page 211 - Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
Page 96 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
Page 106 - An honest man's the noblest work of God;' And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd!