On the Banks of the Ouse Or Life in Olney a Hundred Years Ago: A Story

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Seeley & Company, 1888 - English fiction - 296 pages

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Page 121 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war Might never reach me more ! My ear is pained, My soul is sick with every day's report Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
Page viii - And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences ; The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number, And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.
Page 334 - FAREWELL, dear scenes, for ever closed to me, Oh, for what sorrows must I now exchange ye!
Page 339 - Thus? oh, not thus! no type of earth can image that awaking, Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of seraphs round him breaking, Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body parted, But felt those eyes alone, and knew, —
Page 312 - From thee departing they are lost, and rove At random without honour, hope, or peace. From thee is all that soothes the life of man, His high endeavour, and his glad success, His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. But...
Page 144 - And waft it to the mourner as he roves, Can call up life into his faded eye, That passes all he sees unheeded by : No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, No cure for such, till God who makes them, heals.
Page 219 - And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story, How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face because so broken-hearted...
Page 305 - When one, that holds communion with the skies, Has filled his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings ; Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, That tells us whence his treasures are supplied.
Page viii - He shall be strong to sanctify The poet's high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down In meeker adoration : Nor ever shall he be in praise By wise or good forsaken : Named softly, as the household name Of one whom God hath taken. With quiet sadness, and no gloom, I learn to think upon him ; With meekness that is gratefulness, To God whose heaven hath won him — Who suffered once the madness-cloud...
Page 71 - tis equal, whether love ordain My life or death, appoint me pain or ease ; My soul perceives no real ill in pain ; In ease or health no real good she sees. One good she covets, and that good alone, To choose thy will, from selfish bias free ; And to prefer a cottage to a throne, And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.

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