The works of Mrs. Hemans, with a memoir by her sister, and an essay on her genius by Mrs. Sigourney ... (Google eBook)

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Lea and Blanchard, 1840
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Page 291 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came, Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence, and in fear ; They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 291 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 254 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
Page 268 - Look on the fiends around — they feel for me : I fear them not, and feel for thee alone — Speak to me ! though it be...
Page 293 - Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever: it may be a sound— A tone of music— summer's eve— or spring— A flower— the wind — the ocean— which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound...
Page 137 - I have look'd o'er the hills of the stormy north, And the larch has hung all his tassels forth, The fisher is out on the sunny sea, And the reindeer bounds...
Page 156 - Through many a joyous hour, Where the silvery green of the olive shade Hung dim o'er fount and bower. Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore, In song, in prayer, in sleep, Have been, as we may be no more ; Kind sister, let me weep...
Page 238 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves. The free, fair Homes of England ! Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallowed wall! And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God !* THE SICILIAN CAPTIVE.
Page 137 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Page 141 - Yet further may relent : for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. But if thou goest, I follow...

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