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Page 239 - But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream ; And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam.
Page 239 - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit...
Page 241 - Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow — Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know. Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss; And now mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this.
Page 241 - Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle down, Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown. And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began to swell, And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, " Farewell, sweet child ! Farewell ! Oh!
Page 239 - There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen ; And Astur of the four-fold shield, Girt with the brand none else may wield, Tolumnius with the belt of gold, And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene XXIV.
Page 241 - The time is come. See how he points his eager hand this way! See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon the prey ! With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, betrayed, bereft, Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge left. He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of the slave ; Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow— Foul outrage which thou know'st not, which thou shalt never...
Page 239 - Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee.
Page 26 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Page 241 - Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside, To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with horn and hide, Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a crimson flood, Leaps down to the great sewer the gurgling stream of blood. Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle down; Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown. And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began to swell, And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, "Farewell, sweet child! Farewell...