Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Band 10

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Charles Dudley Warner, Hamilton Wright Mabie, Mrs. Lucia Isabella (Gilbert) Runkle, George Henry Warner
J. A. Hill, 1902
 

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Seite 4108 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Seite 4113 - It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath ; His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone His victories are o'er ; And he and his eight hundred...
Seite 4112 - Some the style Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds Of error leads them, by a tune entranced : While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear The insupportable fatigue of thought ; And swallowing, therefore, without pause or choice, The total grist unsifted, husks and all.
Seite 4112 - Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought ; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Seite 4113 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Seite 4105 - Hark ! how the strings awake : And, though the moving hand approach not near, Themselves with awful fear A kind of numerous trembling make.
Seite 4110 - LITTLE inmate, full of mirth Chirping on my kitchen hearth. Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soft and sweet ; In return thou shalt receive Such a strain as I can give.
Seite 4111 - The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Seite 4104 - With as much zeal, devotion, piety, He always liv'd, as other saints do die. Still with his soul severe account he kept, Weeping all debts out ere he slept. Then down in peace and innocence he lay, Like the sun's laborious light, Which still in water sets at night, Unsullied with his journey of the day.
Seite 4119 - Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace ; Truth, simple truth, was written in his face...

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