The Poetical Works of James Montgomery. With a Memoir of the Author, 第 3 卷

Little, Brown, 1860
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第 182 頁 - Thus star by star declines, Till all are pass'd away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day; Nor sink those stars in empty night, — They hide themselves in heaven's own light.
第 182 頁 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
第 244 頁 - When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press any thing which he thought might promote it ; and, sitting among his friends, often, after a deep silence and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent, ingeminate the word Peace...
第 278 頁 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! — Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
第 154 頁 - The dead are like the stars by day ; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky...
第 127 頁 - SERVANT of God, well done ! Rest from thy loved employ ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy.
第 258 頁 - Marshaled, once more, at Freedom's call, They came to conquer or to fall, Where he who conquered, he who fell, Was deemed a dead or living Tell, Such virtue had that patriot breathed, So to the soil his soul bequeathed, That wheresoe'er...
第 116 頁 - Thus early call'd, and strongly moved, A prophet from a child, approved, SPENCER his course began ; From strength to strength, from grace to grace, Swiftest and foremost in the race, He carried victory in his face ; He triumph'd as he ran. How short his day...
第 128 頁 - A darken'd ruin lay. The pains of death are past, Labour and sorrow cease, And life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace. Soldier of Christ ! well done ; Praise be thy new employ ; And while eternal ages run, Rest...
第 189 頁 - Like worth unfriended or unknown, Yet to my British heart more dear Than all the torrid zone. Thrice welcome, little English flower ! Of early scenes beloved by me, While happy in my father's bower, Thou shalt the blithe memorial be.