The poets and poetry of Europe, with intr. and biogr. notices, by H.W. Longfellow

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Page 481 - Ye sons of freedom, wake to glory! Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Page 339 - But what binds us, friend to friend, But that soul with soul can blend ? Soul-like were those hours of yore : Let us walk in soul once more. Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee, — Take, — I give it willingly; For, invisible to thee. Spirits twain have crossed with me.
Page 554 - Thou shew to us Thine own true way No man can find it : Father! Thou must lead. Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind By which such virtue may in me be bred That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread ; The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind...
Page 237 - The ancient prince of hell Hath risen with purpose fell ; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour, On earth is not his fellow.
Page 180 - And when Jesus came to the place, He looked up, and saw him, and said unto him, "Zaccheus, make haste, and come down; for today I must abide at thy house.
Page 553 - YES ! hope may with my strong desire keep pace, And I be undeluded, unbetrayed ; For if of our affections none find grace In sight of Heaven, then wherefore hath God made The world which we inhabit ? Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee Glory to that eternal Peace is paid, ^Tio such divinity to thee imparts As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts.
Page 359 - A region of drought, where no river glides, Nor rippling brook with osiered sides ; Where sedgy pool, nor bubbling fount, Nor tree, nor cloud, nor misty mount, Appears, to refresh the aching eye : But the barren earth, and the burning sky, And the blank horizon, round and round, Spread — void of living sight or sound.
Page 326 - Land ! O Land ! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great Departed, Into the Silent Land ;
Page 434 - The beautiful spring delights me well, When flowers and leaves are growing ; And it pleases my heart to hear the swell Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing In the echoing wood : And I love to see, all scattered around, Pavilions and tents on the martial ground ; And my spirit finds it good, To see, on the level plains beyond, Gay knights and steeds...
Page 237 - God's word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger, But, spite of hell, shall have its course; 'Tis written by his finger. And, though they take our life, Goods, honour, children, wife, Yet is their profit small; These things shall vanish all: The city of God remaineth.

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