Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, Volumen 6

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Página 350 - Oh ! how our hearts were beating, when at the dawn of day, We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array; With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land!
Página 351 - Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Página 296 - L'orage a brisé le chêne Qui seul était mon soutien. De son inconstante haleine Le zéphyr ou l'aquilon Depuis ce jour me promène De la forêt à la plaine, De la montagne au vallon. Je vais où le vent me mène, Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer; Je vais où va toute chose, Où va la feuille de rosé Et la feuille de laurier.
Página 289 - OH ! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red ? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout ? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread? Oh evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod ; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong, "Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God. It was about the...
Página 350 - Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the lance! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Página 352 - Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.
Página 158 - When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him.
Página 351 - ... count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, " Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man to man ; But out spake gentle Henry, " No Frenchman is my foe ; Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.
Página 290 - tis he, boys. Bear up another minute : brave Oliver is here. Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes, Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes.

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