No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, No Devons plump and red, But brindled, black, and iron-grey That mark the mountain-bred; For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, With sullen eyes agleam,...
Among disasters that dissension brings, This not the least is, which belongs to kings: If wars go well, each for a part lays claim; If ill, then kings, not soldiers, bear the blame.
O happy they whose hearts receive The implanted word with faith; believe Because their fathers did before, Because they learnt, and ask no more High triumphs of convictions wrought,...
Blessed be this place, More blessed still this tower; A bloody, arrogant power Rose out of the race Uttering, mastering it, Rose like these walls from these Storm-beaten cottages...
Yes, it is drawing nigh - The time of blossoming; The waiting heart beats stronger With every breath of Spring, The days are growing longer; While happy hours go by As if on zephyr wing. ...
Permit me, Reader, to make my bow, And allow Me to humbly commend to your tender mercies The hero of these simple verses. By domicile, of the British Nation; By birth and family, a Crustacean....
Each sin has its door of entrance. Keep--that--door--closed! Bolt it tight! Just outside, the wild beast crouches In the night. Pin the bolt with a prayer, God will fix it there.
The Texts are taken respectively from Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., and from Herd's MSS., vol. i. fol. 49, where it is stated that a verse is wanting.
The word is writ that he who runs may read. What is the passing breath of earthly fame? But to snatch glory from the hands of blame-- That is to be, to live, to strive indeed....
I've often wish'd that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a-year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end, A terrace-walk, and half a rood Of land, set out to plant a wood....
Again? new tumults in my breast? Ah, spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest! I am not now, alas! the man As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne. Ah, sound no more thy soft alarms,...
God is of the east possess'd, God is ruler of the west; North and south alike, each land Rests within His gentle hand. - He, the only righteous one,...
Proud of her clustering spires, her new-built towers, Our Venice, stolen from the slumbering sea, A sister's kindliest greeting wafts to thee, Rose of Val d' Arno, queen of all its flowers!...
'Where are you going with your horse and bike, And the townsfolk still at rest? Where are you going, with your swag and pack, And the night still in the West?...