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abide ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER Angels Bingen blessed Born breast breath bright brow Bryan Waller Procter Caldon Low Church clack cried dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes fair fall fear feet flame flowers Francis Mahony FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER gaze gentle glory God's golden grace hand hath head heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre hill holy hour Jesus John Henry Newman John Keble King kiss land life's light lips live look Lord Lord Macaulay Love's Mano morning night o'er pain passed Poems pray prayer PRE-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD Queen rest ride river Lee Rock rose round Shadow shame shine sighs sing sleep smile song SONNET soul sound spirit sweet tears tell thee thine things Thou hast thought turn unto voice vrom weary wind wing words
Page 231 - I shall see him, but not now: I shall behold him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall smite the corners of Moab, and destroy all the children of Sheth.
Page 88 - A thousand spurs are striking deep — a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest, And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre!
Page 81 - THE SEA. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Page 170 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together ; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather...
Page 24 - And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Out of the circling charm; Until her bosom must have made The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm.
Page 89 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; Ho! matrons of Lucerne ; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright; Ho ! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night.
Page 87 - King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save our Lord the King!
Page 87 - With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears! There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood...