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abbey of Carennac Alban hill Anon Avignon Bay of Biscay beneath blessed blood brave breast bright Brittany brow Calais Carcassonne castle château Chaudeau Chenonceaux church cried crown dark dead dear deep doth dream earth eyes fair father Felicia Hemans Fontainebleau forest France Frédéric Mistral gates gleams glory gold grave gray green hand hath hear heard heart hermit hour Jurançon Kerthomaz King Henry La Crau land Liré little abbey lone look lord Louisa Stuart Costello Marly-le-Roi Matthew Arnold mother mountain mournful murmuring night noble o'er pass plain prayer Robert Southey round Saint shade shining shore sigh silent smile soft song soul sound steeds stone stood stream sweet tears thee thine thou thought towers trees Unto voice walls wander wave weep wild William Shakespeare William Wordsworth wind woods youth
Page 13 - NOW entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret .whispers of each other's watch. Fire answers fire ; and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber
Page 202 - ... a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath turned his rein; D'Aumale hath cried for quarter; the Flemish count is slain.
Page 30 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 27 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 202 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Page 5 - The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion ! In mad game They burst their manacles and wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain...
Page 53 - Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Page 200 - And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre.
Page 27 - That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
Page 15 - Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man's company^ That fears his fellowship to die with us.