The works of professor Wilson, ed. by prof. Ferrier, Том 9

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Страница 398 - The Lord giveth, and the Lord ' taketh away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.
Страница 292 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Страница 104 - We Poets in our youth begin in gladness ; But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.
Страница 214 - And sees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves, From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine: While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join, And echo swells the chorus to the skies. Would Edwin this majestic scene resign For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies ? Ah ! no : he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.
Страница 179 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Страница 329 - Live you ? or are you aught That man may question ? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. — You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
Страница 270 - ... starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills. In him the savage virtue of the race, Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead Nor did he change ; but kept in lofty place The wisdom which adversity had bred. Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth ; The shepherd lord was honoured more and more ; And, ages after he was laid in earth, "The good Lord Clifford
Страница 106 - Now, Spring returns ; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Страница 215 - The scattered few would meet, in some deep dell By rocks o'er-canopied, to hear the voice, Their faithful pastor's voice : he by the gleam Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book, And words of comfort spake : over their souls His accents soothing...
Страница 294 - School could have nothing to say to that school. It is mostly the way with schools, whether of boys or men. Well! the railway has swallowed up ours, and the locomotives now run smoothly over its ashes. So fades and languishes, grows dim and dies, All that this world is proud of, — and is not proud of, too.

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