Scenes of the olden time, by the author of 'Records of noble lives'. |
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Стр. 11
... Look up , sweet Babe , look up For love of Thee , Thus far from home The East is come , and see , To seek herself in Thy sweet eyes . First Wise Man . -We who strangely went astray , Lost in a bright Meridian night , Second . A darkness ...
... Look up , sweet Babe , look up For love of Thee , Thus far from home The East is come , and see , To seek herself in Thy sweet eyes . First Wise Man . -We who strangely went astray , Lost in a bright Meridian night , Second . A darkness ...
Стр. 28
... banks of the streams , and the woodside knolls , are enamelled with a rich variety of flowers . What does April give us ? Look around you , and mark . The tall dandelion now lifts up his crown of gold 28 All - Fools ' Day :
... banks of the streams , and the woodside knolls , are enamelled with a rich variety of flowers . What does April give us ? Look around you , and mark . The tall dandelion now lifts up his crown of gold 28 All - Fools ' Day :
Стр. 33
... looks forth In festal pomp on the smiling earth . " Oh , let us away ! I care not whither , O'er hill or plain , so we wend together ; For ' tis greater joy with thee thus to ride , Than as belted earl by a monarch's side . ' MARY ...
... looks forth In festal pomp on the smiling earth . " Oh , let us away ! I care not whither , O'er hill or plain , so we wend together ; For ' tis greater joy with thee thus to ride , Than as belted earl by a monarch's side . ' MARY ...
Стр. 52
... look With frenzied eye upon the fatal book Of the dim Future ! Blood - stained leaves I see , Falsehood , and foullest wrong , and infamy ! A slavish people and a tyrant sway ; A long drear night , a slowly - rising day ; The hired ...
... look With frenzied eye upon the fatal book Of the dim Future ! Blood - stained leaves I see , Falsehood , and foullest wrong , and infamy ! A slavish people and a tyrant sway ; A long drear night , a slowly - rising day ; The hired ...
Стр. 55
... Look at the feather - grass , with its silken plume worthy of a knightly crest - at the glancing shifting spikelets of the quaking grass , with its thousands of purple bells at the velvety meadow - grass , with whose emerald blades ...
... Look at the feather - grass , with its silken plume worthy of a knightly crest - at the glancing shifting spikelets of the quaking grass , with its thousands of purple bells at the velvety meadow - grass , with whose emerald blades ...
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66 Item ancestors April archery armour arrows beautiful birds blossoms boughs bowman brave bright called carol celebrated ceremony cheer chivalry Christmas Christmas pie colour crown custom dance delight dressed earth English eyes fair famous fancy favourite feast festival flowers garlands genial gentle girl glory gold grace green hand happy harvest HARVEST CUSTOMS hawk heart Henry VIII heralds holly honour horse jousts Joute June king knights ladies lance leafy Loki Lord Lupercalia maiden martial music May-day May-pole merry England mirth mistletoe morning mumming noble o'er olden pastime pleasant poet prince prize Queen reign Ring Robin Hood rode Roman rose Saxon says scenes shaft shoot Shooter's Hill sing Sir Walter Scott song spear splendour sport squires steeds striketh sweet thee thou tium tournament tourney trees trumpet Twelfth Day Twelfth Night Valentine Valentine's Day wassail whoso breaketh wood young
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Стр. 95 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease.
Стр. 39 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Стр. 62 - Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold, With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend To win her Grace, whom all commend.
Стр. 125 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease ; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Стр. 125 - RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Стр. 80 - With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the weather; None from his fellow starts, But, playing manly parts, And like true English hearts, Stuck close together.
Стр. 95 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a cider-press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Стр. 110 - O READER ! hast thou ever stood to see The holly tree? The eye that contemplates it well, perceives Its glossy leaves Ordered by an intelligence so wise As might confound the atheist's sophistries. Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen Wrinkled and keen; No grazing cattle, through their prickly round, Can reach to wound ; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear.
Стр. 111 - Come, bring with a noise, My merry, merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing ; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts
Стр. 48 - Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day; Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; And we danced about the may-pole and in the hazel copse, Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.