Yeast: a ProblemTauchnitz, 1851 - Всего страниц: 337 |
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answered Argemone Argemone's asceticism asked Lancelot banker beautiful béguinage believe better blessed Bracebridge burst Chartist Church Claude colonel Cornishman curse dare dear devil dreams earth Eleusinian mysteries England English eyes face faith fancy father feeling felt fox-hunting gamekeeper Garden of Eden gentleman give God's hand Harry Verney head hear heard heart heaven Honoria honour hope human Jesuits keeper knew ladies Lance laughed least live look Lord Minchampstead Lord Vieuxbois Luke Luke Smith man's mean Mellot mind Miss Lavington never night noble Norway old Harry once pardon Paul perhaps pray Protestantism Protestants quoth racter ribaldry Rome round sake seemed silent smile Smith soul spirit squire strange sure talk TAUCHNITZ tell there's things thought Lancelot Tregarva true truth turned utterly vicar walk wonder word workhouse Yeast young
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Стр. 296 - He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things : and the rich he hath sent empty away.
Стр. 198 - LORD, thou hast heard the desire of the poor ; thou preparest their heart, and thine ear hearkeneth thereto : 20 To help the fatherless and poor unto their right, that the man of the earth be no more exalted against them.
Стр. 173 - We quarrelled like brutes, and who wonders ? What self-respect could we keep, Worse housed than your hacks and your pointers, Worse fed than your hogs and your sheep ? Our daughters with base-born babies Have wandered away in their shame; If your misses had slept, squire, where they did, Your misses might do the same. Can your lady patch hearts that are breaking With handfuls of coals and rice, Or by dealing out flannel and sheeting A little below cost price...
Стр. 173 - She looked at the tuft of clover, And wept till her heart grew light ; And at last, when her passion was over, Went wandering into the night. But the merry brown hares came leaping Over the uplands still, Where the clover and corn lay sleeping On the side of the white chalk hill.
Стр. 171 - The merry brown hares came leaping Over the crest of the hill, Where the clover and corn lay sleeping Under the moonlight still. " Leaping late and early, Till under their bite and their tread The swedes, and the wheat, and the barley Lay cankered, and trampled, and dead. " A poacher's widow sat sighing On the side of the white chalk bank, Where under the gloomy fir-woods One spot in the ley throve rank. " She watched a long tuft of clover, Where rabbit or hare never ran ; For its black sour haulm...
Стр. i - To the elder, it may do good ; for it may teach some of them, as I earnestly hope, something of the real, but too often utterly unsuspected, state of their own children's minds ; something of the reasons of that calamitous estrangement between themselves and those who will succeed them, which is often too painful and oppressive to be confessed to their own hearts ! Whatever amount of obloquy this book may bring upon me, I shall think that a light price to pay, if by it I shall have helped, even in...
Стр. 172 - There's blood on your new foreign shrubs, squire, There's blood on your pointer's feet ; There's blood on the game you sell, squire, And there's blood on the game you eat.
Стр. 192 - ... their party nicknames, given without a shudder at the terrible accusations which they conveyed. And then the indignation, the shame, the reciprocal bitterness which those articles would excite, tearing still wider the bleeding wounds of that Church which they professed to defend ! And then, in this case, too, the thought rushed across him, " What if I should have been wrong and my adversary right? What if I have made the heart of the righteous sad whom God has not made sad...
Стр. 172 - You have sold the laboring man, squire, Both body and soul, to shame, To pay for your seat in the House, squire, And to pay for the feed of your game. " You made him a poacher yourself, squire, When you'd give neither work nor meat, And your barley-fed hares robbed the garden At our starving children's feet. " When, packed in one reeking chamber, Man, maid, mother and little ones lay, While the rain pattered in on the rotten bride-bed, And the walls let in the day.