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amongst Anacreon angels apparitor art thou Asterius beautiful blessed bosom bowed bright brother received Callistus chimes chimes at midnight Christ Christian Christmas cried darkness dear divine door Dumbarton rock earth eyes face Father Denis festival flowers Freke gentle girl give thee rest glory Go hence godfather hand Hannschen head hear heard heart heaven Herbert holy honour hour Irish Jack Bishop Jonathan light listen look Lord Lysippus Mamertine prison memory midnight rang morning Naomi Nerea niche night o'er Old Year—the Old parson passed away back pause priest Render thy account Roman Forum round Saint Patrick Saint Patrick's Day Saint Valentine sigh sing Slingsby smile song soul Spirit of Eternity Spirit passed stood stroke of midnight Subura sure sweet Temoria Temple things thou gavest Thou hast thou Old thought trees turned Uncle Saul Valentine voice wind wine words
Сторінка 118 - Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.
Сторінка 89 - I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope. My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning.
Сторінка 69 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Сторінка 89 - Why art thou so heavy, O my soul? and why art thou so disquieted within me? 6 O put thy trust in GOD ; for I will yet give him thanks, which is the help of my countenance, and my GOD.
Сторінка 40 - He was full of joke and jest, But all his merry quips are o'er. To see him die, across the waste His son and heir doth ride post-haste, But he'll be dead before.
Сторінка 69 - The moon shines bright : — In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise ; in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.
Сторінка 70 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and, I think, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
Сторінка 89 - OUT of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.