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arms battle bear beneath blood BOOK born brave breast breath bright Cæsar called close clouds dark dead death deep delight Died earth England English eyes fair fall farewell father field fire flowers follow fought gaze give glory grace green hand hast hath head hear heart Heaven Henry hill honour hope hour Italy keep King land light living London look Lord lost mind morning mountain nature never night noble o'er once pass peace Persian play poems poet poor praise pride raise rest rich rise rose round sail Ship sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit star sweet tear thee things thou thought town turn Verse voice wave wind wing
Страница 111 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, " Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Страница 182 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Страница 91 - Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away. What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? The world recedes; it disappears!
Страница 181 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Страница 198 - Work - work work Till the brain begins to swim! Work - work - work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam , and gusset , and band , Band , and gusset , and seam , Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out , But human creatures
Страница 36 - tis his will ; Let but the commons hear this testament (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read), And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Страница 34 - Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Страница 122 - Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile ! — it answers — Yes. I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu I But was it such ? — It was.— Where thou art gone Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
Страница 80 - Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky, or gray, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise...
Страница 156 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.