Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands, Band 1

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Phillips, Sampson,, 1854 - 432 Seiten
 

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Seite 129 - CALL it not vain: — they do not err, Who say that when the poet dies Mute Nature mourns her worshipper And celebrates his obsequies; Who say tall cliff and cavern lone For the departed bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill; That flowers in tears of balm distil; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks in deeper groan reply, 10 And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Seite 220 - And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Seite 199 - Hark, hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes : With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise : Arise, arise.
Seite 187 - Verily I say unto you ; There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundred-fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions, and in the world to come eternal life.
Seite 27 - I THANK the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days, A happy English child.
Seite 180 - ... O'er Roslin, all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 'Twas broader than the watchfire light, And redder than the bright moonbeam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copsewood glen : 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthprnden. Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie, Each baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seite 44 - And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures...
Seite 199 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.
Seite 104 - Auld Lang Syne" brings Scotland, one and all, Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear streams, The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's brig's black wall, All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall, Like Banquo's offspring: — floating past me seems My childhood, in this childishness of mine: I care not — 'tis a glimpse of "Auld Lang Syne.
Seite 209 - The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer, nay...

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