Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's

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Hurd and Houghton, 1866 - Maryland - 432 pages

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Page 158 - Going to the Wars TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True; a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Page 9 - Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land.
Page 395 - She turned her right and round about, And she swore by the mold, " I would not be your love," said she, " For that church full of gold.
Page 137 - Bell my wife she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can ; And oft, to live a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though Ime goodman.
Page 72 - Which seemly was to see; A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the columbine, Ywrought full featously.
Page 266 - I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear ; But when the beetle sounds his hum My comrades take the spear.
Page 65 - An old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate...
Page 179 - Fellows, to mount a bank. Did your instructor In the dear tongues, never discourse to you Of the Italian mountebanks ? Per.
Page 65 - She cast her weeds away, And to the palmy shore she hied, All in her best array. In sea-green silk so neatly clad, She there impatient stood ; The crew with wonder saw the lad Repel the foaming flood.
Page 416 - They raised my heart to that pure source Whence heavenly comfort flows : They taught me to despise the world, And calmly bear its woes. No more the slave of human pride, Vain hope, and sordid care, I meekly vowed to spend my life In penitence and prayer.

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