A life's lessons, المجلد 3;المجلد 479

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الصفحة 82 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will ; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ; Whose passions not his masters are ; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath...
الصفحة 87 - A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command ; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel 13 light. XV.— I WANDERED LONELY. 1804. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud...
الصفحة 82 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall: Lord of himself, though not of lands, And, having nothing, yet hath all.
الصفحة 148 - Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, And grasps the skirts of happy chance, And breasts the blows of circumstance, And grapples with his evil star; Who makes by force his merit known And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne; And moving up from high to higher, Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope The pillar of a people's hope, The centre of a world's desire...
الصفحة 172 - N. do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship, and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God.
الصفحة 98 - I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The lady of the land. I told her how he pined : and ah ! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I...
الصفحة 147 - I will wash my hands in innocency, O Lord : and so will I go to thine altar ; 7 That I may shew the voice of thanksgiving : and tell of all thy wondrous works.
الصفحة 211 - Nought is there under heaven's wide hollownesse That moves more dear compassion of mind, Than beautie brought t' unworthie wretchednesse Through envious snares or fortune's freaks unkinde.
الصفحة 154 - s untasted, And thy egg is very cold; Thy cheeks are wan and wasted, Not rosy as of old. My boy, what has come o'er ye? You surely are not well! Try some of that ham before ye, And then, Tom, ring the bell!" "I cannot eat, my mother, My tongue is parched and bound, And my head, somehow or other, Is swimming round and round. In my eyes there is a fulness, And my pulse is beating quick; On my brain is a weight of dulness: Oh, mother, I am sick!

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