Govinda Sámanta: Or The History of a Bengal Ráiyat, Volumen 1

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Macmillan, 1874 - 383 páginas
 

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Página 206 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Página 265 - Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round.
Página 329 - For why ? — because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can.
Página 333 - As human Nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Página 15 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Página 48 - Sidrophel, That deals in destiny's dark counsels, And sage opinions of the moon sells ; To whom all people, far and near, On deep importances repair ; When brass and pewter hap to stray, And linen slinks out of the way ; When geese and pullen are seduced, And sows of sucking-pigs are chowsed ; When, cattle feel indisposition, And need the...
Página 136 - THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument ! A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue : The present hours, the future...
Página 142 - Rural confusion ! on the grassy bank Some ruminating lie ; while others stand Half in the flood, and often bending sip The circling surface.
Página 149 - Laertes' head. And these few precepts in thy memory See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Página 319 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant, for which we toil? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted. Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets, your cane affords.

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