The works of mrs Hemans; with a memoir of her life, by her sister [H.M. Owen].

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Seite 158 - And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?
Seite 178 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.
Seite 177 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!
Seite 157 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Seite 68 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Seite 73 - It is a time-piece that advances very regularly near four minutes a day, and no other group of stars exhibits, to the naked eye, an observation of time so easily made. How often have we heard our guides exclaim in the savannahs of Venezuela, or in the desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, 'Midnight is past, the Cross begins to bend!
Seite 176 - Her lot is on you — to be found untired, Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain ; Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And, oh ! to love through all things. Therefore pray ! And take the thought of this calm vesper time, With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light, On through the dark days fading from their prime, As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight ! Earth will forsake — oh ! happy...
Seite 249 - I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.
Seite 178 - And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! We know when moons shall wane, When Summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain— But who shall teach us when to look for thee...
Seite 108 - Amidst the knightly ring : A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep — — He never smiled again...

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