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art thou beauty beneath BERNARDO DEL CARPIO blue streams bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land brow burst call'd child dark dead death deep didst dreams dust dwell earth ev'n faded faint fair fair brow falchion fear flowers foam fount gaze gentle glance gleam gloom glorious glow gone grave green hath hear heard heart Heaven holy hour hush'd joyous Lake of Lucerne land leaves light lips lone look'd lyre midst mighty mirth Moorish mournful night o'er Oronoco pale pass'd pines pour'd rest rills Rio Verde rocks round seem'd shades shadows shining shore silent sleep slumber smile soft song soul sound Spain spear spirit stars stood stormy strain streams sunny sunny brow sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tone unto voice wakeful eye wave weep wild wind woods wouldst young
Page 221 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 183 - Yet more, the Depths have more ! — What wealth untold Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies.
Page 273 - Death ! Day is for mortal care, Eve, for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night, for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer ; But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth...
Page 313 - Speak, Father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" —And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Page 266 - Their graves are severed far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea. The same fond mother bent at night O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight — Where are those dreamers now ? One, 'midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream is laid — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
Page 222 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod ; They have left unstained what there they found, — Freedom to worship God.
Page 292 - And men stood breathless in their dread. And baffled in their skill — But One was there, who rose and said To the wild sea,
Page 297 - Thou tak'st through the dim church-aisle thy way, And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day, And its high pale tombs, with their trophies old, Are bathed in a flood as of burning gold.