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Page 6 - Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again; The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers.
Page 125 - And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town ; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, long live the king...
Page 64 - Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Page 64 - Oui, je viens dans son temple adorer l'Éternel ; Je viens, selon l'usage antique et solennel, Célébrer avec vous la fameuse journée Où sur le mont Sina la loi nous fut donnée.
Page 28 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 54 - WERT thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.
Page 63 - IN the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown ; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town. As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood. Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray, Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay.
Page 65 - Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, Which like a wounded snake drags its slow length along.
Page 103 - VIDES, ut alta stet nive candidum Soracte, nee jam sustineant onus Silvae laborantes, geluque Flumina constiterint acuto ? Dissolve frigus ligna super foco 5 Large reponens, atque benignius Deprome quadrimum Sabina, O Thaliarche, merum diota.