Lays and Leaves of the Forest: A Collection of Poems, and Historical, Genealogical & Biographical Essays and Sketches, Relating Chiefly to Men and Things Connected with the Royal Forest of Knaresborough

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Kent & Company, 1882 - 298 páginas
 

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Página 188 - The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry ? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; but the word of our God shall stand for ever.
Página 136 - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Página 81 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa', Let him follow me!
Página 281 - THE STRID, A name which it took of yore : A thousand years hath it borne that name, And shall a thousand more. And hither is young Romilly come, And what may now forbid That he, perhaps for the hundredth time, Shall bound across THE STRID ? He sprang in glee, — for what cared he That the river was strong, and the rocks were steep ? — But the greyhound in the leash hung back, And checked him in his leap. The Boy is in the arms of Wharf, And strangled by a merciless force ; For never more was young...
Página 224 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves. The free fair homes of England, Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallowed wall. And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God.
Página 1 - Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Página 240 - Without a hope on earth to find A mirror in an answering mind, Meek souls there are, who little dream Their daily strife an Angel's theme, Or that the rod they take so calm Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.
Página 207 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Página 123 - Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant, And like a bow buckled and bent together, By some more strong in mischiefs than myself, Must I for that be made a common sink, For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into ? Some call me Witch, And being ignorant of myself, they go About to teach me how to be one; urging, That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) Forespeaks their cattle,* doth bewitch their corn, Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse. This they enforce...
Página 281 - If for a lover the Lady wept, A solace she might borrow From death, and from the passion of death : — Old Wharf might heal her sorrow. She weeps not for the wedding-day Which was to be to-morrow : Her hope was a further-looking hope, And hers is a mother's sorrow.

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