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Agamemnon's altar arms Art thou Atreus bear beauty beneath blessed blest bliss blood bosom breast brother Calchas clouds Clytemnestra concealed counsel curse dear death deeds Diana didst dost thou doth dread e'en earth Electra Enone eyes fane fate father fearful feel Furies gainst gaze gentle give glad glorious glow goddess godlike gods grief hand hast hear heaven hope hosts inmost IPHIGENIA IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS king light lonely methinks midst monarch moorland mountain ne'er neath never night noble nought o'er once Orcus Orestes peace Pelops Perchance priestess Pylades race rest rise sacred sacred grove SCENE Scythian seek seemed seize serene shades shine sigh silence skies snow sorrow soul stranger sweet Tantalus Tartarus Tauris thee thine THOAS thou art thou dost thoughts thy heart Thyestes thyself truth twas twill valiant voice Whate'er wherefore Whilst wilt wings words would'st Zeus
Page 182 - PURER yet, and purer I would be in mind, Dearer yet and dearer Every duty find; Hoping still and trusting God without a fear, Patiently believing He will make all clear.
Page 184 - Heart and will and mind. 3 Higher yet and higher Out of clouds and night, Nearer yet and nearer Rising to the light, — Light serene and holy, Where my soul may rest, Purified and lowly, Sanctified and blest.
Page 200 - Thy mercies," is my posy still. This on my ring, This by my picture, in my book I write ; Whether I sing, Or say, or dictate, this is my delight. Invention, rest ; Comparisons, go play ; wit, use thy will ; " Less than the least Of all God's mercies
Page 169 - midst this stillness, 'neath this leaden sky. But yet, perchance, these are but troubled dreams, In which the brain with fearful fancies teems, For sure this cannot be the gentle earth, That loves her children even from their birth ; No mother ever thus forsook her child, With whom in grief she wept, in joy she smiled ; Then why, where'er I look, beneath...
Page 168 - twas but this morning, glad of heart, I left its shades, nor feared from friends to part. Friends ! coldly falls that word upon my ear, Where are they now, my voice they cannot hear, Though all is silent round, the muffled air To them no words of mine will downwards bear.
Page 169 - tis cold or heat, Which makes the ground thus scorch my aching feet, The snow in flakes of fire falls on my head, And withers up my brain — would I were dead ! What ! is it thus I must for sin atone, Pass through the travail of my soul alone ? What...