The mountain prophet, the mine, and other poems

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Heylin, 1860 - 175 páginas

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Página i - Of mercy and justice in thy face discern'd, Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat Second to thee, offer'd himself to die For man's offence. O unexampled love ! Love no where to be found less than divine ! Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men! Thy name Shall be the copious matter of my song Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin ! " Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere, Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent.
Página 153 - I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side : By our own spirits are we deified : We poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
Página 5 - Maggot's cottage — and never in this world was a more flat and emphatic contradiction given to any statement, than that which was given to David Trevarrow's assertion — "There are none to weep if I was taken away." (A short but beautiful account of the above incident will be found in a little volume of poems, entitled Lays from the Mine, the Moor, and the Mountain, written by John Harris, a Cornish miner.) CHAPTER THIRTY Reveals some Astonishing Facts and their Consequences.
Página 86 - And when in after days the lash Was drinking her hot blood, And crushing her worn frame to earth, Because she pray'd to God ; The black maid's spirit bounded high On wings of silvery light, And join'd the throngs of Paradise In robes of purest white.
Página 54 - And there a crusher crash'd the copper ore. Here girls were cobbing under roofs of straw, And there were giggers at the oaken hutch. Here a man-engine...
Página 85 - And burring sighs roll up to heaven For vengeance on the slain. A colour'd maiden, free from guile, And gentle as the rain Which falls at leafy summer-time Upon the grassy plain, Came to her mistress sighing much ; Who blush'd not thus to rave : " A black maid with a face like yours Has not a soul to save.
Página 86 - Among the sugar-trees, A heavenly voice came on her ear, Borne by the passing breeze. And as it floated through her hair, And kiss'd the slave-dress'd sod, It...
Página 85 - Whose funeral-shadow falls upon The field of slavery. Down in a hollow where the roe Bounds wild from rock to rock, A stately mansion stands, where dwell A planter and his flock.
Página 54 - With pincers in his hand ; and troops of maids With heavy hammers brake the mineral stones. The cart-man cried, and shook his broken whip ; And on the steps of the account-house stood The active agent, with his eye on all.
Página 110 - A month was nearly ended, And he severe had wrought Day after day in darkness, And it was all for nought. The mineral- vein had faded, And now all hope was fled ; To-morrow should be pay-day, His children have no bread.

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