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Page 69 - Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
Page 61 - The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Page 62 - The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings ; The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and hark! Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings ; Thro...
Page 24 - I THANK the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days, A happy English child.
Page 90 - Thackeray, one of his masters, was wont to say of him, that he was a boy of so active a mind, that if he were left naked and friendless on Salisbury Plain, he would, nevertheless, find the road to fame and riches.
Page 41 - ... pleasure in relating, as an instance of his young master's punctuality and goodness of disposition, that he never failed to be at the long buttressed wall, which separated the garden from the road, just as the baker's cart was going past, when he would purchase a loaf, throw it over the wall, and, on entering the garden, good-humouredly say, " Harry, look among the cabbages, you will find something for your family.
Page 51 - ALMIGHTY God, thy piercing eye Strikes through, the shades of night; And our most secret actions lie All open to thy sight. There's not a sin that we commit, Nor wicked word we say, But in thy dreadful book 'tis writ, Against the judgment day.
Page 80 - In his fifth year, as he was one morning turning over the leaves of a Bible in his mother's closet, his attention was forcibly arrested by the sublime description of the angel in the tenth chapter of the Apocalypse ; and the impression which his imagination received from it was never effaced. At a period of mature judgment, he considered the passage as equal in sublimity to any in the inspired...
Page 42 - I mark'd thee with o'er-ruling eye, And sent admiring angels from on high, To walk the paths of danger by thy side, From death to shield thee, and thro
Page 69 - Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, Thy charms my only theme ; My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream, Whence! the scared owl on pinions grey Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose.