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2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven firstborn, Or of the Eternal coeternal beam May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
FOR the fairest maid in Hampton They needed not to search, Who saw young Anna favor Come walking into church,-- Or bringing from the meadows, At set of harvest-day, The frolic of the blackbirds, The sweetness of the hay.
"Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met--or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted."-- Burns . CANTO THE FIRST. Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears.
1 BROTHER of all, with generous hand, Of thee, pondering on thee, as o’er thy tomb, I and my Soul, A thought to launch in memory of thee, A burial verse for thee. What may we chant, O thou within this tomb?
"Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga Cynthi, Exercet DIANA choros." VIRGIL, 'Æn'. "Such on Eurotas's banks, or Cynthus's height, Diana seems: and so she charms the sight, When in the dance the graceful goddess leads The quire of nymphs,...
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear.
THE PROLOGUE. "Ho!" quoth the Knight, "good sir, no more of this; That ye have said is right enough, y-wis, And muche more; for little heaviness Is right enough to muche folk, I guess.
Rail on, Rail on, ye heartless crew! My strains were never meant for you; Remorseless Rancour still reveal, And damn the verse you cannot feel.
Once, early in the morning, Beelzebub arose, With care his sweet person adorning, He put on his Sunday clothes.
A FRAGMENT. Nec tantum prodere vati, Quantum scire licet. Venit aetas omnis in unam Congeriem, miserumque premunt tot saecula pectus. LUCAN, Phars. How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!
Hiawatha's Wooing "As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman, Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other!" Thus the youthful Hiawatha Said within...
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams.
SCENE I.--_A ruinous chateau on the Silesian frontier of Bohemia_. THE storm is at it's height--how the wind howls, Like an unearthly voice, through these lone chambers! And the rain patters on the flapping casement Which quivers in it's frame--the...
LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.
CLINKUM-CLANK in the rain they ride, Down by the braes and the grey sea-side; Clinkum-clank by stane and cairn, Weary fa' their horse-shoe-airn!
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying forms, 6 Sweep through my soul! 7 Thou standest, smiling 8 Down on me!
Supper removed, the mother sits, And tells her tales by starts and fits.
CANTO THE FIRST. The morning watch was come; the vessel lay Her course, and gently made her liquid way; The cloven billow flashed from off her prow In furrows formed by that majestic plough; The waters with their world were...
IN TWO DIALOGUES. DIALOGUE I. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't. You grow correct, that once with rapture writ, And are, besides, too moral for a wit. Decay of parts, alas!
WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw, An’ bar the doors wi’ driving snaw, An’ hing us owre the ingle, I set me down to pass the time, An’ spin a verse or twa o’ rhyme, In hamely, westlin jingle.
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream, Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream, The helm sways idly, hither and thither; Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast, And the oars, and the sails; but 'tis sleeping fast,...
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimson, With the crimson of its life-blood, Filling all the air with...
AUDISNE HAEC AMPHIARAE, SUB TERRAM ABDITE? PROMETHEUS: Monarch of Gods and DAEmons, and all Spirits But One, who throng those bright and rolling worlds Which Thou and I alone of living things Behold with sleepless eyes!
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