Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome, and Other Poems

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American book Company, 1913 - Всего страниц: 133
 

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Стр. 103 - And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Стр. 104 - 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.
Стр. 110 - And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay. Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids: Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades: Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her wide; Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our pride.
Стр. 103 - 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...
Стр. 107 - And hark ! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line: For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws! For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine! The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks!
Стр. 104 - 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,
Стр. 105 - 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.
Стр. 109 - It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay; Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.
Стр. 30 - But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the spacious champaign To Rome men took their flight. A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; A fearful sight it was to see Through two long nights and days.
Стр. 106 - Ireton's Regiment.) OH ! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?

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