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art thou Aymer banners bards beauty beneath blue streams brave breast breath breeze bright bright land bright wave brother brow call'd Chatillon cloud dark Dartmoor dead death deep dreams dwell e'en earth fair fair brow falchion farewell father fear floating flowers fount gleam gloom glow gone grave Gwynedd hath haunted ground hear heard heart heaven hills holy hour hush'd joyous Lake of Lucerne land leave light Llywarch Hen lone look look'd midst mighty mirth Moraima mountain night o'er pale pass'd pour'd Raimer rest rills Rio verde rock round scene seem'd shades shadows shining silent sleep smile soft song soul sound Spain speak spears spirit stars storm streams sunny sweet swell sword tears tell thee thine things thou art Thou hast thought tomb tone voice wave weep Welsh wert wild wind woods young
Стр. 169 - And shouted but once more aloud, "My Father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They...
Стр. 171 - With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
Стр. 82 - It is a time-piece that advances very regularly near four minutes a day, and no other group of stars exhibits, to the naked eye, an observation of time so easily made. How often have we heard our guides exclaim in the savannahs of Venezuela, or in the desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, 'Midnight is past, the Cross begins to bend!
Стр. 194 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away; Mother, with thine earnest eye Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Called thy harvest-work to leave ; Pray! — ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee!
Стр. 188 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Стр. 148 - Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer — They are nature's offering, their place is there ! They speak of hope to the fainting heart, With a voice of promise they come and part, They sleep in dust through the wintry hours, They break forth in glory. Bring flowers, bright flowers ! THE CRUSADER'S RETURN. " Alas ! the mother that him bare, If she had been in presence there, iln his wan cheeks and sunburnt hair She had not known her child.
Стр. 340 - OH ! how could Fancy crown with thee, In ancient days, the god of wine, And bid thee at the banquet be, Companion of the vine ? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er ; Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more.
Стр. 338 - No more of talk where God or angel guest With man, as with his friend, familiar used To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast...
Стр. 77 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.