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Page 47 - The winding-sheet of Edward's race ; Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace ; Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing King!
Page 192 - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head...
Page 58 - He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day, But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun; Himself is his own dungeon.
Page 28 - God speed thee, brave King Arthur, " Thus feasting in thy bowre ; " And Guenever thy goodly Queen, " That fair and peerlesse flowre. " Ye gallant Lords, and Lordings, " I wish you all take heed, " Lest, what ye deem a blooming rose '
Page 32 - Some threwe them under the table, And swore that they had none. Sir Cradock had a little knife, Of steel and iron made ; And in an instant thro' the skull He thrust the shining blade.
Page 31 - Come win this mantle, lady, And do me credit here. " Come win this mantle, lady, For now it shall be thine, If thou hast never done amiss, Sith first I made thee mine.
Page 159 - Are but the beings of a summer's day, Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand, Disdaining little delicacies, seized The plough, and greatly independent lived.
Page 27 - When, lo ! a straunge and cunning boy Before him did appeare. A kirtle and a mantle This boy had him upon, With brooches, rings, and owches, Full daintily bedone.
Page 133 - Spelunca alta fuit vastoque immanis hiatu, Scrupea, tuta lacu nigro nemorumque tenebris, Quam super haud ullae poterant impune volantes Tendere iter pennis : talis sese halitus atris 240 Faucibus effundens supera ad convexa ferebat ; [Unde locum Graii dixerunt nomine Aornon...
Page 272 - Art thou fallen, O Oscar ! in the midst of thy course ? the heart of the aged beats over thee ! He sees thy coming wars ! The wars which ought to come he sees ! They are cut off from thy fame ! When shall joy dwell at Selma ? When shall grief depart from Morven ? My sons fall by degrees : Fingal is the last of his race. My fame begins to pass away. Mine age will be without friends. I shall sit a grey cloud in my hall.