Lyrical gleanings from various authors, Volume 112T. Barbey, 1864 - 128 pages |
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Page 5
... dark , but for thy light : Thy torch doth show the way . The other days and thou Make up one man ; whose face thou art , Knocking at Heaven with thy brow : The working days are the back part ; The burden of the week lies there , Making ...
... dark , but for thy light : Thy torch doth show the way . The other days and thou Make up one man ; whose face thou art , Knocking at Heaven with thy brow : The working days are the back part ; The burden of the week lies there , Making ...
Page 9
... dark , the azure of the sky , There sits the silvery moon in queen - like state , And as on earth she looks with placid eye , Doth , in the gazer's working mind , create Thoughts of a land beyond the trackless plains Where one eternal ...
... dark , the azure of the sky , There sits the silvery moon in queen - like state , And as on earth she looks with placid eye , Doth , in the gazer's working mind , create Thoughts of a land beyond the trackless plains Where one eternal ...
Page 10
... dark souls illume , Too oft they lie o'erwhelmed by sin and gloom . Oh ! would those souls were as yon orb divine , Calm and unmoved by earthly care or ill- Emerging from the clouds of grief , to shine With unchanged lustre at the ...
... dark souls illume , Too oft they lie o'erwhelmed by sin and gloom . Oh ! would those souls were as yon orb divine , Calm and unmoved by earthly care or ill- Emerging from the clouds of grief , to shine With unchanged lustre at the ...
Page 11
... dark and fetid hold Six hundred wretches wept ; They were slaves , whom the undue lust of gold From their native land had swept ; And there they stood , the young and old , While a pestilence o'er them crept . Cramm'd in that dungeon ...
... dark and fetid hold Six hundred wretches wept ; They were slaves , whom the undue lust of gold From their native land had swept ; And there they stood , the young and old , While a pestilence o'er them crept . Cramm'd in that dungeon ...
Page 17
... dark hours . On fields where brave men " die or do , " In halls where rings the banquet's mirth , Where mourners weep , where lovers woo , From throne to cottage hearth ? What sweet tears dim the eyes unshed , What wild vows falter on ...
... dark hours . On fields where brave men " die or do , " In halls where rings the banquet's mirth , Where mourners weep , where lovers woo , From throne to cottage hearth ? What sweet tears dim the eyes unshed , What wild vows falter on ...
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Common terms and phrases
a-breaking stones ALLOWAY KIRK angels ANNE BEALE beautiful beauty lie behold BEN JONSON beneath bird bless bosom breast breath bright brow calm CAMBRIA JONES cheer child cloud crown dark dead dear death deep divine doth e'en earth echo eternal fair farewell fear flowers FRANCIS QUArles gaze glorious glory golden grave green grief hath hear heart Heaven Heaven's gate heavenly hill holy land Land's End Lanes life's light look Lord love old songs lyre morn mountain neath night o'er peace praise prayer Prince Prince Consort Prince of Wales proud R. T. EVANSON rest Robert Southwell Rodborough save the Queen scene Selsley shadow shine sigh sing skies sleep slumber smile soothe sorrow soul spirit sweet tear thee Thomas Vaughan thou hast thought throne thrush tomb voice Wales waves weep wept wings world's good word WYKE BAYLISS youth
Popular passages
Page 41 - THERE is no flock , however watched and tended , But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted ! Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Page 42 - There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.
Page 85 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre...
Page 62 - The Smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.
Page 43 - We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way THE BUILDERS.
Page 85 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest ; Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Page 86 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Page 98 - O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine ! The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; But fixed his word, his saving power remains ; Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own MESSIAH reigns ! LADY CLARA VERE DK VERE _ Tennyson.
Page 86 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply, And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Page 83 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...