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Стр. 103 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 56 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Стр. 157 - It began upon the following occasion: It is allowed on all hands that the primitive way of breaking eggs, before we eat them, was upon the larger end; but his present Majesty's grandfather, while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and breaking it according to the ancient practice, happened to cut one of his fingers. Whereupon the Emperor, his father, published an edict, commanding all his subjects, upon great penalties, to break the smaller end of their eggs.
Стр. 54 - For, don't you mark? we're made so that we love First when we see them painted, things we have passed Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see ; And so they are better, painted — better to us, Which is the same thing. Art was given for that ; God uses us to help each other so, Lending our minds out.
Стр. 80 - O FRIEND ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man among us is the best : No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry ; and these we adore : Plain living and high thinking are no more : The homely beauty of the good old cause...
Стр. 55 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret, Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Стр. 57 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Стр. 155 - In the left there was a sort of engine, from the back of which were extended twenty long poles, resembling the palisadoes before your majesty's court : wherewith we conjecture the manmountain combs his head ; for we did not always trouble him with questions, because we found it a...
Стр. 55 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.