The General Repository, Volume 4

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Andrews Norton
William Hilliard, 1813 - American periodicals
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Page 80 - And the blind and the lame came to him in the temple; and he healed them. "And when the Chief Priests and Scribes saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying in the temple, and saying, Hosanna to the Son of David: they were sore displeased.
Page 296 - answered her, yea, she returned answer to herself. Have they not sped? have they not divided the prey; to every man a damsel or two; to Sisera a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil?
Page 291 - Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe, Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock. Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands, His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun, With death shot glowing in his fiery hands. And eye that
Page 124 - With yielding hand That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage: Till floating broad upon his breathless side, And to his fate abandoned, to the shore You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
Page 76 - Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies
Page 291 - what?—a dream alone. Can despots compass aught that hails their sway? Or call with truth one span of earth their own, Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone! Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief! As o'er thy plain the pilgrim prick'd his steed,
Page 283 - vain and fruitless to regret thee; Nor Hope, nor Memory yield their aid. But Pride may teach me to forget thee. Yet all this giddy waste of years, This tiresome round of palling pleasures, These varied loves, these matron's fears, These thoughtless strains to 'passion's measures— If thou wert mine
Page 75 - twas simple trimming. The wheels composed of crickets- bones, And daintily made for the nonce. For fear of rattling on the stones, With thistle-down they shod it: For all her maidens much did fear, If Oberon had chanced to hear That Mab his queen should have been there, He would not have abode it.*
Page 75 - legs are made, Well morticed and finely laid, He was the master of his trade, It curiously that builded: The windows of the eyes of cats, And for the roof, instead of slats, Is covered with the skins of bats, With moonshine that are gilded. Hence
Page 123 - .—"Let not on thy hook the tortured worm, Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds; Which, by rapacious hunger swallowed deep, Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast Of the weak, helpless, uncomplaining wretch, Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand.

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