Poems of James Montgomery

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Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1860 - 379 páginas
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Página 98 - There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found ; And while the mouldering ashes sleep Low in the ground...
Página 71 - Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Página 72 - Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life; In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. " Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found...
Página 102 - The storm, that wrecks the winter sky, No more disturbs their deep repose, Than summer evening's latest sigh That shuts the rose.
Página 92 - COMMON LOT. ONCE, in the flight of ages past, There lived a man:— and WHO was HE ? — Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast, That Man resembled Thee. Unknown the region of his birth, The land in which he .died unknown : His name has...
Página 104 - Then in a moment to my view The stranger darted from disguise \ The tokens in his hands I knew, My Saviour stood before mine eyes ; He spake ; and my poor name he named : " Of me thou hast not been ashamed ; These deeds shall thy memorial be ; Fear not, thou didst them unto me.
Página 74 - THERE is a land of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night ; A land of beauty, virtue...
Página 71 - A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age and love-exalted youth: The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime the...
Página 47 - O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, The violet in the vale; But this bold floweret climbs the hill, Hides in the forest, haunts the glen, Plays on the margin of the rill, Peeps round the fox's den.
Página 103 - And ate ; but gave me part again : Mine was an angel's portion then ; For, while I fed with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste. I spied him, where a fountain burst Clear from the rock ; his strength was gone : The heedless water...

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