A School History of England

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American Book Company [1904], 1904 - Great Britain - 406 pages
 

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Page 360 - Her court was pure ; her life serene ; God gave her peace ; her land reposed ; A thousand claims to reverence closed In her as Mother, Wife and Queen ; 142 The Epic 143 " And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet...
Page 210 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Page 154 - Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die : I think, there be six Richmonds in the field; Five have I slain to-day, instead of him : — A horse!
Page 332 - Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.
Page 22 - Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief : 'Princess ! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Page 280 - Our ships are laden with the harvest of every climate; our tables are stored with spices, and oils, and wines; our rooms are filled with pyramids of china, and adorned with the workmanship of Japan; our morning's draught comes to us from the remotest corners of the earth; we repair our bodies by the drugs of America, and repose ourselves under Indian canopies. My friend Sir Andrew calls the vineyards of France our gardens; the spice islands our hot-beds; the Persians our silkweavers; and the Chinese...
Page 138 - God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It...
Page 111 - 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...
Page 195 - And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Page 136 - Laud be to God ! — even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem ; Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land. — But bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie ; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

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