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Сторінка 12 - When I remember all The friends so linked together, I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather; I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed...
Сторінка 282 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid ; Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Сторінка 280 - When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.
Сторінка 288 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Сторінка 280 - I am going to my cold and silent grave ; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished ; my race is run ; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom ! I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world ; it is the charity of its silence ! Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them.
Сторінка 165 - I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with and inseparable from British soil; which proclaims even to the stranger and sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of universal emancipation.
Сторінка 140 - The endeavour to approach it would have only removed him to a greater distance than he was before ; as a little hand that strives to grasp a mighty globe is thrown back by the re-action of its own effort to comprehend.
Сторінка 160 - ... him off, and he appears no more; in the other case, how does the work of sedition go forward ? Night after night the muffled rebel steals forth in the dark, and casts another and another brand upon the pile, to which, when the hour of fatal maturity shall arrive, he will apply the flame.
Сторінка 280 - Be yet patient ! I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my cold and silent grave : my lamp of life is nearly extinguished : my race is run : the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom...
Сторінка 167 - ... family and the wishes of his country. But if, which Heaven forbid ! it hath still been unfortunately determined, that because he has not bent to power and authority, because he would not bow down before the golden calf and worship' it, he is to be bound and cast into the furnace, I do trust in God there is a redeeming spirit in the Constitution which will be seen to walk with the sufferer through the flames, and to preserve him unhurt by the conflagration.