Rambles in Arcadia

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Black, 1903 - Great Britain - 276 pages
 

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Page 218 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor...
Page 157 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky...
Page 219 - As bees In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer Their state affairs: so thick the aery crowd Swarmed and were straitened; till, the signal given, Behold a wonder!
Page 218 - Obedience : for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers of sorts ; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the...
Page 77 - Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a : A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Page 163 - The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord Drank at the last sad supper with his own. This, from the blessed land of Aromat — After the day of darkness, when the dead Went wandering o'er Moriah — the good saint, Arimathsean Joseph, journeying brought To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord.
Page 13 - But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation...
Page 125 - And for evermore that lady wore A covering on her wrist. There is a nun in Dryburgh bower, Ne'er looks upon the sun ; There is a monk in Melrose tower, He speaketh word to none. That nun, who ne'er beholds the day, That monk, who speaks to none — That nun was Smaylho'me's Lady gay, That monk the bold Baron.
Page 196 - O for a blast of that dread horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, That to King Charles did come, When Rowland brave, and Olivier, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died...
Page 186 - Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

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