Noetes AmbrosianŠ, Volume 5

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Page 176 - What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Page 77 - It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Page 34 - For the yeo-heave-o', and the heave-away, and the sighing seaman's cheer : When, weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home ; And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam. In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last; A shapely one he is, and strong, as e'er from cat was cast.
Page 34 - And for the ghastly-grinning shark, to laugh his jaws to scorn: To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian isles He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden...
Page 34 - King, and royal craftsmen we ; Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling red!" Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped ; Our anchor soon must change...
Page 420 - twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride.
Page 297 - Search then the ruling passion: there, alone, The wild are constant, and the cunning known; The fool consistent, and the false sincere; Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here. This clue once found, unravels all the rest, The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confest.
Page 34 - Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand, To shed their blood so freely for the love of Fatherland — Who left their chance of quiet age and...
Page 146 - And heaven had wanted one immortal song. But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
Page 11 - Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

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