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Страница 356 - Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Caesar cried, 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
Страница 2 - twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;} " No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.
Страница 192 - Count that day lost, whose low descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done.
Страница 185 - I should not see The season's glorious show, Nor would its brightness shine for me, Nor its wild music flow. But if, around my place of sleep, The friends I love should come to weep, They might not haste to go. Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom, Should keep them lingering by my tomb.
Страница 275 - WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise...
Страница 248 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Страница 539 - There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.
Страница 184 - There, through the long, long, summer hours The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale close beside my cell; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife bee and humming-bird.
Страница 28 - Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.
Страница 184 - And what if cheerful shouts at noon Come, from the village sent, Or songs of maids, beneath the moon With fairy laughter blent ? And what if, in the evening light, Betrothed lovers walk in sight Of my low monument ? I would the lovely scene around Might know no sadder sight nor sound.