Poems, Том 2

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Стр. 36 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Стр. 35 - My ear is pained, My soul is sick with every day's report Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
Стр. 214 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry, " Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain for us ! " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy, Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round.
Стр. 206 - The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are, As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Стр. 37 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; * if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country, and their shackles, fall.
Стр. 217 - Come then, and, added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, Thou who alone art worthy ! it was thine By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth ; And thou hast made it thine by purchase since, And overpaid its value with thy blood. Thy saints proclaim thee king ; and in their hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love.
Стр. 118 - Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild, Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers, Trees, churches, and strange visages expressed In the red cinders, while with poring eye I gazed, myself creating what I saw.
Стр. 185 - The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Стр. 329 - And swing his rump around. His frisking was at evening hours, For then he lost his fear, But most before approaching showers Or when a storm drew near. Eight years and five round-rolling moons He thus saw steal away, Dozing out all his idle noons, And every night at play. I kept him for his humour's sake, For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache, And force me to a smile.
Стр. 13 - No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar...

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