The Evergreen, Band 1

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J. Winchester, 1840
 

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Seite 40 - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Seite 2 - I wandered by the brook-side, I wandered by the mill, I could not hear the brook flow, The noisy wheel was still. There was no burr of grasshopper, No chirp of any bird—- But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.
Seite 76 - And Esau hated Jacob because of the blessing wherewith his father blessed him : and Esau said in his heart, The days of mourning for my father are at hand ; then will I slay my brother Jacob.
Seite 191 - ... naked, from ceiled roofs to arched coffins, from living like gods to die like men. There is enough to cool the flames of lust, to abate the heights of pride, to appease the itch of covetous desires, to sully and dash out the dissembling colours of a lustful, artificial, and imaginary beauty. There the warlike and the peaceful, the fortunate and the miserable, the beloved and the despised princes mingle their dust, and pay down their symbol of mortality, and tell all the world, that when we die...
Seite 99 - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the trampling surf, On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
Seite 40 - The king is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, in deafening shout,
Seite 212 - There was an old woman who lived In a shoe, She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread, She whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Seite 44 - THE BELEAGUERED CITY. I HAVE read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead.
Seite 99 - IT was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. , Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds That ope in the month of May.
Seite 40 - 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.

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