Over the Ocean: Or, Sights and Scenes in Foreign LandsLee and Shepard, 1871 - 558 |
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Strona 170 - Here's an acre sown indeed With the richest royallest seed That the earth did e'er suck in Since the first man died for sin: Here the bones of birth have cried, «Though gods they were, as men they died...
Strona 178 - Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lies what once was Matthew Prior, The son of Adam and of Eve : Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher ? " But, in this case, the old prejudice got the better of the old joke.
Strona 73 - These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill...
Strona 67 - They entered now the chancel tall ; The darkened roof rose high aloof On pillars, lofty, and light, and small ; The key-stone, that locked each ribbed aisle, Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille ; The corbels ' were carved grotesque and grim ; And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim, With base and with capital flourished around. Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound.
Strona 40 - Not raised in nice proportions was the pile, But large and massy ; for duration built ; With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld By naked rafters intricately crossed, Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood, All withered by the depth of shade above.
Strona 179 - Life is a jest, and all things show it, I thought so once, but now I know it, with what more you may think proper.
Strona 285 - O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure?
Strona 191 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Strona 76 - I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this, Lord Ullin's daughter. " And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.
Strona 181 - twould a saint provoke ! (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) — No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face ; One would not, sure, be frightful when...