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appear beauty Belfast better body called Capriana character church Clonmel dark death dream Duke earth effect England evil eyes father favour feeling felt Ferrara frae France French genius give grace hand happy heart heaven Hindus honour hookah hope House of Este human imagination Ireland Irish King labour lady land landlord less light live look Lord Lord Bute Lord Byron Madame Marcas ment mind Mortagne nature ness never Neville night observed party passed passion perhaps person Petrarch poem poet poor present prince racter reader rience Roly-poly Roman Catholic Rosicrucian round Rowland Pole scarcely scene seemed sion society soul spirit stood tain Tasso thee thing thou thought tion towers true truth turn United Irishmen voice Whig words Yellowley young youth
Page 223 - O Lord, I will praise thee : though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortedst me. Behold, God is my salvation ; I will trust, and not be afraid ; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song ; he also is become my salvation.
Page 21 - O keep my soul, and deliver me: let me not be ashamed; for I put my trust in thee.
Page 653 - A brighter wash ; to curl their waving hairs, Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs ; Nay, oft, in dreams, invention we bestow, To change a flounce, or add a furbelow.
Page 653 - Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain . Others, on earth, o'er human race preside, Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide Of these the chief the care of nations own, And guard with arms divine the British throne. " Our humbler province is to tend the fair, Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care ; To save the powder from too rude a gale, Nor let th...
Page 144 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath, our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring Through the coal-dark underground; Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.
Page 653 - On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 649 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Page 217 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty : Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry : Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind And snatch a fearful joy.