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Page 513 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 101 - There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, The holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God shall help her, and that right early. The heathen raged, the kingdoms were moved; He uttered his voice, the earth melted. The Lord of hosts is with us; The God of Jacob is our refuge.
Page 513 - 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 228 - To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew, From which its fields and woods ever renew Their green and golden immortality. And from the sea there rise, and from the sky There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright, Veil after veil, each hiding some delight, Which Sun or Moon or zephyr draw aside...
Page 305 - But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know ? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own ; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease : The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam, His first, best country,...
Page 404 - To waste his whole creation, or possess All as our own, and drive, as we were driven, The puny habitants; or, if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works.
Page 534 - THE ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH, from the Designs of T. Rowlandson, with Metrical Illustrations by the Author of 'Doctor Syntax.
Page 376 - Their only Labour was to kill the Time ; And Labour dire it is, and weary Woe. . They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle Rhyme ; Then, rising sudden, to the Glass they go, Or saunter forth, with tottering Step and slow : This soon too rude an Exercise they find ; Strait on the Couch their Limbs again they throw.
Page 83 - A man might then behold At Christmas, in each hall Good fires to curb the cold, And meat for great and small. The neighbours were friendly bidden. And all had welcome true. The poor from the gates were not chidden, When this old cap was new.
Page 101 - God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, Though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.