The Pearl: Or, Affection's Gift

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Thomas T. Ash, 1832
 

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Страница 74 - Hark, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes : With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise : Arise, arise.
Страница 202 - Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Страница 175 - I'll be a king, except a crown, For that they wo'nt allow, And I'll find out what the tariff is, That puzzles me so now. MOTHER. My son! my son ! the cares of state Are thorns upon the breast, That ever pierce the good man's heart, And rob him of his rest. The great and gay to him appear As trifling as the dust, For he knows how little they are worth — How faithless is their trust.
Страница 208 - We fail ? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, (Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey...
Страница 177 - The cottage hearth invade. CAROLINE. , I will be gay and courtly, And dance away the hours; Music, and sport, and joy shall dwell Beneath my fairy bowers ; No heart shall ache with sadness Within my laughing hall, But the note of joy and gladness Re-echo to my call. MOTHER.
Страница 175 - With my broadsword in my hand, And hear the cannon rattle, And the music all so grand. MOTHER. My son ! my son ! what if that sword Should strike a noble heart, And bid some loving father From his little ones depart! What comfort would your waving plumes And brilliant dress bestow, When you thought upon his widow's tears, And her orphans
Страница 31 - The Lord giveth, and the Lord ' taketh away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.
Страница 43 - Fresh from the favourite tree, Nuts in their brown and husky fold, Dearest, I spread for thee. " Year after year I tread Thus to thy low retreat ; But now the snow-hairs mark my head, And age enchains my feet.
Страница 176 - ... the cares of state Are thorns upon the breast, That ever pierce the good man's heart, And rob him of his rest ; The great and gay to him appear As trifling as the dust, For he knows how little they are worth, How faithless is their trust. LOUISA. I mean to be a cottage girl, And sit behind a rill, And morn and eve my pitcher there With purest water fill ; And I'll train a lovely woodbine, Around my cottage door, And welcome to my winter hearth The wandering and the poor. MOTHER. Louisa, dear,...
Страница 45 - When pierced with agony I weep, Dost render no reply. Daughter ! my youthful pride, The idol of my eye, Why didst thou leave thy mother's side Beneath these sands to lie ? Long o'er the hopeless grave Where her lost darling slept, Invoking gods that could not save That Pagan mourner wept : Oh ! for some voice of power To sooth her bursting sighs, " There is a resurrection hour ! Thy daughter's dust shall rise...

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