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Angelo Angerstoff arms beautiful bosom Boyar brother Captain Chanteloup Charles Charlotte Lennox cheek Christina Claudio Colonel companion countenance cried cuckoo dark daugh daughter dear death deck Donovan door duke Elizabeth exclaimed eyes face fancy father fear feelings felt Finnan haddie frae gaze Gibraltar girl Glasgow Gourock hand happy head hear heard heart heaven Holy Island honour hope horse hour husband Isabel James Somers Jessie knew lady Larry laugh light lived look Lord lover Marietta marriage maun mind morning Morvalden mother never night Nugent o'er Paisley pale passed poor replied returned Robin Robin Hood round roundhead Scotland seemed silence smile soon sorrow spirit stood stranger sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought took turned Uncle Ben voice walk wife woman wonder word young youth
Page 398 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest ? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn ? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be ; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Page 66 - Grey-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well; Small difference lies between thy creed and mine : This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell ; His death was mourned by sympathy divine. The Being, that is in the clouds and air, That is in the green leaves among the groves, Maintains a deep and reverential care For the unoffending creatures whom he loves.
Page 397 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Page 64 - The moving accident is not my trade : To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : "Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
Page 133 - It is but lost labour that ye haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of carefulness : for so he giveth his beloved sleep.
Page 65 - There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep, Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep, This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.
Page 398 - O attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty,— that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 148 - THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the year On the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.