Life, Poetry, and Letters of Ebenezer Elliott, the Corn-law Rhymer: With an Abstract of His Politics

Cover
J. Mortimer, 1850 - 273 Seiten
 

Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben

Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.

Ausgewählte Seiten

Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen

Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen

Beliebte Passagen

Seite 101 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Seite 153 - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Seite 99 - It's hardly in a body's pow'r, To keep, at times, frae being sour, To see how things are shar'd ; How best o...
Seite 92 - There is the moral of all human tales ; « 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Seite 261 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!
Seite 185 - Within the sun-lit forest, Our roof the bright blue sky, Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow, We lift our hearts on high : Beneath the frown of wicked men Our country's strength is bowing ; But, thanks to God, they can't prevent The lone wild flowers from blowing ! High, high above the tree-tops The lark is soaring free...
Seite 261 - She listened with a fitting blush. With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The lady of the land.
Seite 98 - Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him For herding with that nest of fools and knaves. By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge Were to be had, and the brave story warms me.
Seite 220 - By the swart artisan ! By God, our sire! Our souls have holy light within; And every form of grief and sin Shall see and feel its fire, By earth, and hell, and...

Bibliografische Informationen