The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes by C. Gibbon, Volumes 3-4
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Page 49 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate: Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 330 - The tallow candle an astral burned, And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only,
Page 304 - And where are they, and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Page 228 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 361 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Page 173 - O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!" our captains cried, when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane, To our cheering sent us back; Their shots along the deep slowly boom — Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shatter'd sail; Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom.
Page 361 - Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne: Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 65 - ... a combination of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things apparently unlike.
Page 329 - The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair.
Page 173 - Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save ; So peace instead of death let us bring; But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our king.