The Spirit of the Old Dominion

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Stephen T. Mitchell
Shepherd & Pollard, 1827 - Всего страниц: 293
 

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Стр. 249 - 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!
Стр. 293 - Oh for a tongue to curse the slave, Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might...
Стр. 293 - Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips ! His country's curse, his children's shame. Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame. May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — While lakes that shone in mockery nigh...
Стр. 293 - Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, — With hopes, that but allure to fly, With joys, that vanish while he sips, Like Dead- Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips...
Стр. 64 - BALQUHITHER. LET us go, lassie, go, To the braes o' Balquhither, Where the blaeberries grow 'Mang the bonnie Highland heather ; Where the deer and the rae, Lightly bounding together, Sport the lang summer day On the braes o
Стр. 65 - I'll cover it o'er Wi' the flowers o' the mountain ; I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae dreary, And return wi" their spoils To the bower o' my dearie. When the rude wintry win...
Стр. 70 - But she'll plague you, and vex you, Distract and perplex you ; False-hearted and ranging, Unsettled and changing, What then do you think, she is like ? Like a sand ? like a rock ? Like a wheel ? like a clock ? Ay, a clock that is always at strike.
Стр. 92 - Which like a pestilence sweeps the lower sky, Dreaded by every orb and planet nigh. This hath my father heard. Oh ! Marcian, He is a worldly and a cruel man, And made me once a victim ; but again It shall not be. I have had too much of pain, Too much for such short hours as life affords, And I would fain from out the golden hoards Of joy, pluck Some fair ornament, at last, To gild my life with — but my life hath past.
Стр. 293 - ... Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame. May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — While lakes that shone in mockery nigh Are fading off...
Стр. 64 - twas wild and grand, The praise of hearts that scorn the world's control, Disdaining all but Love's delicious band, The chain of gold and flowers, the tie of soul.

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