The Life and Letters of the Great Earl of Cork

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Duckworth, 1904 - 531 páginas
 

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Página 177 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Página 122 - In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
Página 70 - Keep ye the Law — be swift in all obedience — Clear the land of evil, drive the road and bridge the ford. Make ye sure to each his own That he reap where he hath sown ; By the peace among Our peoples let men know we serve the Lord!
Página 18 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in: As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him!
Página 328 - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie : His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Página 305 - Gainst graver hours that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Página 368 - His Prince's nearest joy and grief, He had, yet wanted all relief; The prop and ruin of the state; The people's violent love and hate; «° One in extremes loved and abhorred. Riddles lie here, or in a word — Here lies blood; and let it lie Speechless still and never cry.
Página 454 - So you creak it, and I want the heart to scold. Dear dead women, with such hair, too — what's become of all the gold Used to hang and brush their bosoms ? I feel chilly and grown OLD PICTURES IN FLORENCE.
Página 443 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Página 122 - Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...

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