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ablative agreeing beauty beginning beneath birds blue break breast breeze bright bring clause clouds comes course dark death earth EXERCISE eyes fair fall fear feet fields flow flowers followed foot Georg give given green ground hand heart Heroid hexameter hills hope hour land Latin leaves light lines live look mihi mind mountain murmur never night o'er once Ovid pentameter phrase Quid quod rain remain rest rise rose rule seek shade shine short sigh sings sleep smiles soft song sorrow sound spring stars streams summer sweet syllable tears thee things thou tibi Transpose tree Turn Turn by let verse Virg voice wandering Watching waters wave weary wild winds wings wish wood
Page 142 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Page 199 - The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest.
Page 156 - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours.
Page 136 - A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine ! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love ! No more of me you knew. " This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain ;* But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again.
Page 110 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 180 - Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb. Let us alone. What is it that will last ? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
Page 146 - Wax faint o'er the gardens of gul in her bloom, Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute , Where the tints of the earth , and the hues of the sky , In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Page 147 - There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream. And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.