The English Poets: Addison to Blake

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Thomas Humphry Ward
Macmillan, 1880

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Página 85 - Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Página 263 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art; Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.
Página 532 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Página 262 - Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
Página 263 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find : Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick and lead the blind ! Just and holy is thy name; I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Página 604 - Pipe a song about a Lamb !" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again;" So I piped: he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit th/ee down and write In a book that all may read.
Página 562 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my...
Página 374 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade — A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Página 287 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blessed ! When spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell, a weeping hermit, there ! ODE TO EVENING.
Página 290 - With woful measures, wan Despair Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled ; A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

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