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Page 163 - Bartholomew ,' was passed from man to man; But out spake gentle Henry, ' No Frenchman is my foe : ' Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.
Page 89 - The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, and saying; Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen and purple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls ! For in one hour so great riches is come to nought.
Page 187 - THE world is full of poetry — the air Is living with its spirit ; and the waves Dance to the music of its melodies, And sparkle in its brightness. Earth is veiled And mantled with its beauty ; and the walls. That close the universe with crystal in, Are eloquent with voices, that proclaim The unseen glories of immensity, In harmonies too perfect and too high For aught but beings of celestial mould, And speak to man in one eternal hymn,. Unfading beauty, and unyielding power.
Page 169 - Yet more, the depths have more ! — what wealth untold, Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies ! — Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ; Earth claims not these again.
Page 170 - And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold. I love you for lulling me back into dreams Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams, And of...
Page 158 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 192 - AND I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud : and a rainbow was upon his head, and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire...
Page 167 - Their graves are severed, far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea. The same fond mother bent at night O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight. Where are those dreamers now. One, 'midst the forests of the west, By a dark stream is laid — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
Page 178 - midst the silence of the stars I wake, And watch for thy dear sake. " And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee, Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed ? Wilt thou not vainly spread Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee, To fold my neck, and lift up, in thy fear, A cry which none shall hear?