English Puritanism and Its Leaders: Cromwell, Milton, Baxter, Bunyan

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W. Blackwood, 1861 - 488 Seiten

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Seite 187 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears; Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Seite 187 - Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake, Two massy keys he bore of metals twain. (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake, How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies' sake, Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Seite 155 - Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
Seite 185 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Seite 94 - are most of them old decayed serving-men and tapsters, and such kind of fellows ; and,' said I, ' their troops are gentlemen's sons, younger sons and persons of quality : do you think that the spirits of such base and mean fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honour and courage and resolution in them...
Seite 187 - 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.
Seite 182 - How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year ! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew^th.
Seite 94 - Your troops, said I, are most of them old decayed serving-men and tapsters, and such kind of fellows, and, said I, their troops are gentlemen's sons, younger sons, and persons of quality ; do you think that the spirits of such base and mean fellows will be ever able to encounter gentlemen, that have honour and courage, and resolution in them...
Seite 187 - Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!

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