Annual Register, Volume 59

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Edmund Burke
1818 - History
 

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Page 606 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Page 493 - Upon the back of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave. While in the mean time two armies fly in, represented with four swords and bucklers, and then what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field?
Page 606 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse 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 dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast...
Page 595 - As the universe spreads its flaming wall : Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of Heaven is worth them all...
Page 606 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 604 - Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay, Watching the rosy infant's play : — Though still, whene'er his eye by chance Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches, that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite, Encounter morning's glorious rays. But, hark ! the vesper call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air, From SYRIA'S thousand minarets...
Page 597 - Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, " My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. " Though foul are the drops that oft distil " On the field of warfare, blood like this, " For Liberty shed, so holy is, " It would not stain the purest rill, " That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss...
Page 437 - That part of the island we had landed on was a narrow ridge, not above a musket-shot across, bounded on one side by the sea, and on the other by a creek, extending upwards of a mile inland, and nearly communicating with the sea at its head.
Page 383 - I wish the bald eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country; he is a bird of bad moral character : he does not get his living honestly...
Page 391 - I think the system of morals and his religion as he left them to us, the best the world ever saw or is like to see, but I apprehend it has received various corrupting changes, and I have with most of the present dissenters in England, some doubts as to his divinity...

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