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Alba Longa Arth beneath bless blood bowers breast breath bright brow Brutus Caesar cloud cried dark dead dear death deep doth dread earth Erle eyes fair falcon crest father fear fire flowers gallant glory grace green grief hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hill holy honourable hour HYMN Juxta crucem king Lady ladye Lars Porsena light live LOCH KATRINE Lochinvar look Lord loud Marmion morn mountain Mozambic ne'er never night o'er pale pilum Pleb praise pride rest rise round ruined band Saint shade sigh sight sing slain sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spake spear spirit star steed stood stream sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought to-day tower Twas unto watch wave weary ween weep wild wind wing wondrous wyll
Стр. 275 - Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow O'er all the...
Стр. 152 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Стр. 222 - Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For thou, O Lord ! art with me still; Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Стр. 136 - From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand ; Where Afric's sunny fountains .Roll down their golden sand ; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Стр. 49 - YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze — Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 115 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay. Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Стр. 275 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Стр. 207 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush!
Стр. 74 - O woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...