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Andy arms battle bear beautiful behold beneath blood breath brow cause cloud cold dark dead dear death deep Dick Duke earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel Fern fight fire friends gave give hand happy Hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hold honour hope hour John of Procida King knew lady land leave light live look lord meet mind morn never night o'er once peace pleasure poor Proc rest Rich rise rose round scene side Sir Lucius smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stood sure sweet sword tears tell thee there's thing thou thought true turn Twas voice wave wild wind wish young youth
Side 161 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it ; I have killed many ; I have fully glutted my vengeance ; for my country 1 rejoice at the beams of peace.
Side 176 - The winding-sheet of Edward's race ; Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace ; Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing King!
Side 165 - That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Side 176 - 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 hushed in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Side 116 - The Border slogan rent the sky ! A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry : Loud were the clanging blows ; Advanced, — forced back, — now low, now high, The pennon sunk and rose ; As bends the bark's mast in the gale, When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, It wavered 'mid the foes.
Side 101 - Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there — my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve...
Side 15 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful though a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Side 80 - My life is dreary, He cometh not,' she said ; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
Side 150 - Out of my grief and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what, He should, or he should not; for he made me mad To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman Of guns, and drums, and wounds, — God save the mark!