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Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - 104 páginas
 

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Página 102 - But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came ; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word : "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog ! March on !
Página 100 - Over the mountains, winding down, Horse and foot into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind : the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Página 78 - Revile him not — the Tempter hath A snare for all ; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall ! Oh ! dumb be passion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night. Scorn ! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark...
Página 77 - The laws of changeless justice bind Oppressor with oppressed; And close as sin and suffering joined We march to fate abreast.
Página 19 - Gone, gone, — sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters, — Woe is me, my stolen daughters ! Gone, gone, — sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Página 93 - THE proudest now is but my peer, The highest not more high ; To-day, of all the weary year, A king of men am I . To-day, alike are great and small, The nameless and the known ; My palace is the people's hall, The ballot-box my throne...
Página 11 - What ! preach and kidnap men! Give thanks, — and rob Thy own afflicted poor ? Talk of Thy glorious liberty, and then Bolt hard the captive's door ? What ! servants of Thy own Merciful Son, who came to seek and save The homeless and the outcast, — fettering down The tasked and plundered slave ! Pilate and Herod, friends ! Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine ! Just God and holy ! is that church, which lends Strength to the spoiler, Thine...
Página 63 - Whate'er the loss, Whate'er the* cross, Shall they complain Of present pain Who trust in God's hereafter ? For who that leans on His right arm Was ever yet forsaken ? What righteous cause can suffer harm If He its part has taken ? Though wild and loud And dark the cloud, Behind its folds His hand upholds The calm sky of to-morrow...
Página 103 - IT is done ! Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down. How the belfries rock and reel ! How the great guns, peal on peal, Fling the joy from town to town ! Ring, 0 bells ! Every stroke exulting tells Of the burial hour of crime.
Página 58 - But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn and faint and lacking food. Over weak and suffering brothers, with a tender care they hung, And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange and Northern tongue.

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