Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British Authors, from the Earliest to the Present Times, Tom 2

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Robert Chambers
W. and R. Chambers, 1844
 

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Strona 398 - drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corpse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dinily burning.
Strona 54 - d to the prattle of the purling rille, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves 'plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing
Strona 54 - to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered
Strona 360 - . The volume closed, the customary rites Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal ; Such as the mistress of the world once found Delicious, when her patriots of high note, And
Strona 338 - words are these:—'I don't know what I may seem to the world ; but as to myself, I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of Truth lay all
Strona 60 - of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their wo; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was hi
Strona 394 - him soft names in many a mused rhyme, Darkling I listen ; and for many a time To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an
Strona 399 - thyself; and take a couple of bottles with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good. My uncle

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