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arms bear beautiful better blood brave child comes cried dark dead dear death deep door Elocution expression eyes face fair fall father fear feel fell friends gave give grave green hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour idea Italy kind king lady land learned leave light lips living look lord master means mind morning mother nature never night o'er once passed permission play poor pray PRINCE reading rose round seen side smile soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit stand stood sure sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought took true turned Twas utterance voice waves wild wind young
Page 165 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's...
Page 153 - That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace and nothing said; But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Page 119 - Cameron's gathering" rose, The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills Their...
Page 100 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, " This is my own my native land " ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand ! If such there breathe, go, mark him well...
Page 103 - River where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Nethe'rby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For. a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Page 159 - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Page 145 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 105 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Page 65 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er ! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Page 158 - ... thing you make of me. You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood ! do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.