Ballads, a Legend of the Rhine, Etc

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Smith, Elder, 1887 - 364
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Strona 81 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
Strona 41 - And when, its force expended, The harmless storm was ended, And as the sunrise splendid Came blushing o'er the sea, I thought, as day was breaking, My little girls were waking, And smiling, and making A prayer at home for me.
Strona 139 - LE ROI D'YVETOT. IL était un roi d'Yvetot, Peu connu dans l'histoire ; Se levant tard, se couchant tôt, Dormant fort bien sans gloire, Et couronné par Jeanneton D'un simple bonnet de coton, Dit-on.
Strona 116 - ... heart, Who misses or who wins the prize. Go, lose or conquer as you can ; But if you fail, or if you rise, Be each, pray God, a gentleman. A gentleman, or old or young ! (Bear kindly with my humble lays) ; The sacred chorus first was sung Upon the first of Christmas days : The shepherds heard it overhead — The joyful angels raised it then : Glory to Heaven on high, it said, And peace on earth to gentle men.
Strona 75 - tis hard to die of fire! Who will shield the captive knight ? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd, Cold the victim's mien and proud, And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart ? Who avert the murderous blade ? From the throng, with sudden start, See, there springs an Indian maid. Quick she stands before the knight, " Loose the chain, unbind the ring, I am daughter of the king, And I claim the Indian right...
Strona 55 - When we are gone, Let them sing on, Round the old tree. Evenings we knew, Happy as this ; Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust We sing round the tree. Care, like a dun, Lurks at the gate : Let the dog wait ; Happy we'll be ! Drink, every one ; Pile up the coals, Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree ! Drain we the cup.— Friend, art afraid ? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea.
Strona 52 - It is the lot of saint and sinner. So honest Terre's run his race!" "What will Monsieur require for dinner?" "Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse?" "Oh, oui, Monsieur," 's the waiter's answer; "Quel vin Monsieur desire-t-il?
Strona 74 - POCAHONTAS. Wearied arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight : Round him press a countless horde, He is but a single knight. Hark ! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds, Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the fatal pyre, And the torch of death they light : Ah...
Strona 115 - I'd say, how fate may change and shift ; The prize be sometimes with the fool, The race not always to the swift. The strong may yield, the good may fall, The great man be a vulgar clown, The knave be lifted over all, The kind cast pitilessly down.
Strona 139 - Peu connu dans l'histoire ; Se levant tard, se couchant tôt, Dormant fort bien sans gloire, Et couronné par Jeanneton D'un simple bonnet de coton, Dit-on. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'était là ! La, la.

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