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Стр. 183 - There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise ; He jumped into a bramble bush, And scratched out both his eyes : And when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main He jumped into another bush, And scratched them in again.
Стр. 60 - With passions wild and strong ; And list'ning to their witching voice Has often led me wrong. Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty slept aside, Do thou, All-Good ! for such Thou art, In shades of darkness hide. Where with intention I have err'd, No other plea I have, But, Thou art good ; and Goodness still Delighteth to forgive.
Стр. 23 - And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet 'By shaping some august decree, Which kept her throne unshaken still, Broad-based upon her people's will, And compass'd by the inviolate sea.
Стр. 143 - At length is drawing nigh — Their snow-blind way they grope, And reach its banks to die! Thank God, brave Franklin's place Was empty in that band! He closed his well-run race Not on the iron strand. Not under snow-clouds white, By cutting frost-wind driven, Did his true spirit fight Its shuddering way to heaven ; But warm, aboard his ship, With comfort at his side And hope upon his lip, The gallant Franklin died. His heart ne'er ached to see His much-loved sailors ta'en ; His sailors' pangs were...
Стр. 194 - Too soon, too soon ! You cannot enter now.' ' I am not dead : of that I do repent. But to my living prayer, oh now relent:' ' Too soon, too soon ! You cannot enter now.' ' Honour in life is sweet: my fame is wide, Let me to stand at Dryden's, Byron's side.' ' Too soon, too soon ! You cannot enter now !' ' Honour that comes in life is rare as sweet ; I cannot taste it long: for life is fleet.
Стр. 130 - This literary combat between Tindale and More lasted for five years, but in the end Tindale won, for, as More himself confessed, if brevity is the soul of wit it is also the essence of retort, and a confutation ten times the length of the work it is intended to demolish is a failure.
Стр. 194 - ... Press, Came, that stern Whewell, with the Seniors, Who rule the destinies of Trinity, Had of the sanctuary barred access Unto the bust of Alfred Tennyson, By Woolner carved, subscribed for by the youth Who loved the Poet, hoped to see him set Within the Library of Trinity, One great man more o' the house, among the great, Who grace that still Valhalla, ranged in row. Along the chequered marbles of the floor, Two stately ranks — to where the fragrant limes Look thro' the far end window, cool...