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Стр. 510 - Taxation is no part of the governing or legislative power. The taxes are a voluntary gift and grant of the Commons alone. In legislation the three estates of the realm are alike concerned; but the concurrence of the peers and the Crown to a tax is only necessary to clothe it with the form of a law. The gift and grant is of the Commons alone.
Стр. 486 - O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, o'er bleak Almorah's hill. That course, nor Delhi's kingly gates, nor wild Malwah detain, For sweet the bliss us both awaits by yonder western main. Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, across the dark blue sea, But ne'er were hearts so light and gay as then shall meet in thee...
Стр. 267 - A set o' dull, conceited hashes, Confuse their brains in college classes ! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak ; JO An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o...
Стр. 388 - O'er the broad plantain's humbler shade And dusk anana's prickly blade ; While o'er the brake, so wild and fair, The betel waves his crest in air. With pendant train and rushing wings, Aloft the gorgeous peacock springs ; And he, the bird of hundred dyes, Whose plumes the dames of Ava prize. So rich a shade, so green a sod, Our English Fairies never trod ! Yet who in Indian bower has stood, But thought on England's
Стр. 486 - When, on our deck reclined, In careless ease my limbs I lay And woo the cooler wind. I miss thee when by Gunga's stream My twilight steps I guide, But most beneath the lamp's pale beam I miss thee from my side.
Стр. 455 - If an honest, and, I may truly affirm, a laborious zeal for the public service, has given me any weight in your esteem, let me exhort and conjure you, never to suffer an invasion of your political constitution, however minute the instance may appear, to pass by, without a determined persevering resistance.
Стр. 96 - Mark ye the flashing oars, And the spears that light the deep? How the festal sunshine pours Where the lords of battle sweep ! Each hath brought back his shield; — Maid, greet thy lover home ! Mother, from that proud field, lo ! thy son is come...
Стр. 389 - The shrill cigala strikes his lyre ; And what is she whose liquid strain Thrills through yon copse of sugar-cane ? I know that soul-entrancing swell ! It is — it must be — Philomel ! Enough, enough, the rustling trees Announce a shower upon the breeze...
Стр. 263 - Truly is it written," he exclaims in the exultation of his heart in a letter addressed immediately before his departure to his mother, " that the ways of God are past finding out, and his decrees unsearchable. Is the Lord thus great? So also is he good. I am an instance of it. I have trampled the world under my feet, laughed at fear, and derided danger. Through millions of fierce savages, over parching deserts, the freezing North, the everlasting ice, and stormy seas, have I passed without harm....
Стр. 389 - Enough, enough, the rustling trees Announce a shower upon the breeze, — The flashes of the summer sky Assume a deeper, ruddier dye ; Yon lamp that trembles on the stream, From forth our cabin sheds its beam ; And we must early sleep, to find Betimes the morning's healthy wind. But oh ! with thankful hearts confess Ev'n here there may be happiness ; And He, the bounteous Sire, has given His peace on earth — his hope of heaven ! I wrote this endeavouring to fancy that I was not alone. I believe...