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Half-Hours With the Best Authors, Selected by C. Knight
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affection appear arms believe better body brought called carried common continued death desire earth Elwes English entered face father fear feel feet gave give hand happiness head heard heart heaven honour hour human interest Italy kind king knowledge labour land learned leave less light living look Lord manner master means mind morning nature never night object observed once passed person play pleasure poor present reason received rest rich rise round seemed seen side soon soul spirit stand taken tell thee things thou thought told took trees true truth turn uncle whole young
Página 259 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page; How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Página 496 - s not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it Enter Musicians. Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : With sweetest touches pierce your mistress* ear And draw her home with music.
Página 166 - Till the dappled Dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow Through the sweetbriar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine: While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of Darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before: Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbring Morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill...
Página 258 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.
Página 259 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing *," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, * Pope's Windsor Forest. In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Página 238 - Join voices, all ye living souls : ye birds, That, singing, up to heaven's gate ascend, Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Página 237 - Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Página 167 - Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the Landscape round it measures, Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest : Meadows trim with Daisies pied, Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide. Towers, and Battlements it sees Bosom' d high in tufted Trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Página 257 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door. Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ; Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Página 255 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...