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Стр. 199 - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.
Стр. 200 - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river: For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Стр. 210 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Стр. 179 - The poor folk flocked from far and near ; The great barn was full as it could hold Of women and children, and young and old. Then when he saw it could hold no more, Bishop Hatto, he made fast the door ; And while for mercy on Christ they call, He set fire to the barn and burnt them all. " I' faith 'tis an excellent bonfire ! " quoth he, " And the country is greatly obliged to me, For ridding it in these times 'forlorn Of rats that only consume the corn.
Стр. 204 - But the father answered never a word, A frozen corpse was he. Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face turned to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes. Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed That saved she might be : And she thought of Christ who stilled the wave, On the Lake of Galilee.
Стр. 203 - It was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old...
Стр. 210 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.
Стр. 182 - On the deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, " It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon.
Стр. 198 - You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant. grass.
Стр. 180 - Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be ! " Fly, my Lord Bishop, fly !" quoth he, " Ten thousand rats are coming this way : The Lord forgive you for yesterday !" " I'll go to my tower on the Rhine," replied he ; " 'Tis the safest place in Germany ; The walls are high, and the shores are steep, And the stream is strong and the water deep.