Critical, Historical, and Miscellaneous Essays and Poems, Volume 3

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Page 742 - Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance! A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rush'd, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Page 779 - No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear. All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer.
Page 779 - Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind ; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. " Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,
Page 57 - Booth to his box, and presented him, before the whole theatre, with a purse of fifty guineas for defending the cause of liberty so well against a perpetual dictator.
Page 582 - Who is on my side? who?" And there looked out to him two or three eunuchs. And he said, "Throw her down." So they threw her down: and some of her blood was sprinkled on the wall, and on the horses : and he trode her under foot.
Page 745 - Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire. The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves : The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless caves : O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew : He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu.
Page 743 - 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. Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ; Ho ! burghers of St.
Page 781 - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close ; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows ; 5 LXX.
Page 780 - They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night : And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie.
Page 741 - And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land! And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ! And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's...

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