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answer arms beautiful Bessee bring child church clear close coming Count court cried cross dark dead dear death deep door earth enter eyes face fair father fear fell fire followed gave give gold gone gray hand head hear heard heart heaven honor Hunter king lady land late leave light lived looked lord Miss morning never night noble once passed Pickwick play poet poor pray prettye queen reached rest rose round seemed seen side smile soon soul sound speak stand stood strong sweet tell thee things thou thought till told true turned unto voice wall wife wild wind wood young
第198页 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
第179页 - Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
第9页 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
第56页 - THE poetry of earth is never dead : When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead ; That is the Grasshopper's...
第170页 - ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.
第139页 - Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind With all thy charms, although this corporal rind Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good. Comus. Why are you vex'd, lady ? why do you frown ? Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates Sorrow flies far : see, here be all the pleasures That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.
第171页 - Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.
第24页 - While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced. What could it proceed from ? — not from the burnt cottage — he had smelt that smell before— indeed this was by no means the first accident of the kind which had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky young firebrand.
第136页 - Is now the labour of my thoughts ; 'tis likeliest They had engaged their wandering steps too far ; And envious darkness, ere they could return, Had stole them from me : else, O thievish night, Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, That nature hung in heaven, and...
第25页 - The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son, and he cursed himself that ever he should beget a son that should eat burnt pig. Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since morning, soon raked out another pig, and fairly rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting out, 'Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig, father, only taste — O Lord!