A series of lessons, in prose and verse, progessively arranged [ed.] by J.M. M'Culloch

Front Cover
James Melville M'Culloch
1831
 

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Contents

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 211 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Page 211 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Page 62 - Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Odors of Edom, and offerings divine ? Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine ? 4 Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would His favor secure ; Richer by far is the heart's adoration, Dearer to GOD are the prayers of the poor.
Page 212 - King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout,
Page 61 - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning ! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid ! Star of the east, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid...
Page 213 - 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 49 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 74 - THE stately homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 211 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's...
Page 210 - No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet— But hark!— that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than> before! Arm! Arm! it is— it is— the cannon's opening roar!

Bibliographic information