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Pàgina 480 - Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A' creature of heroic blood, A proud though child-like form. The flames rolled on— he would not go, Without his father's word ; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.
Pàgina 291 - And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; when thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.
Pàgina 225 - That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the old three-cornered hat And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer ! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree • In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling.
Pàgina 81 - God might have bade the earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, Without a flower at all. We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine and toil, And yet have had no flowers. The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow; Nor doth it need the lotus-flower To make the river flow.
Pàgina 480 - THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm, — A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form.
Pàgina 481 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid ; Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Pàgina 481 - Oh, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be " At once a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig.
Pàgina 352 - OVER the mountains, And over the waves ; Under the fountains, And under the graves ; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey ; Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way.