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Pàgina 155 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ; While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow.
Pàgina 432 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own. When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
Pàgina 546 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine! I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Pàgina 547 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Pàgina 11 - IT was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun; And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found That was so large and smooth and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh "Tis some poor fellow's...
Pàgina 164 - OF Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.
Pàgina 423 - Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Pàgina 13 - Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen Wrinkled and keen; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.
Pàgina 469 - The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phcebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse ; Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'