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Página 139 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
Página 139 - ... with charm of earliest birds, pleasant the sun, when first on this delightful land he spreads his orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower glistering with dew, fragrant the fertile earth after soft showers, and sweet the coming on of grateful evening mild, then silent night with this her solemn bird, and this fair moon and these the gems of heaven, her starry train.
Página 23 - Yet, your kind Heavenly Father bends his eye On the least wing that flits along the sky. To him they sing when spring renews the plain, To him they cry, in winter's pinching reign ; Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain: He hears the gay, and the distressful call; And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Página 61 - From branch to branch the smaller birds with song Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings Till even : nor then the solemn nightingale Ceased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays. Others, on silver lakes and rivers, bathed Their downy breast : the swan with arched neck, Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet : yet oft they quit The dank, and, rising on stiff pennons, tower The mid aerial sky.
Página 139 - But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers; Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
Página 36 - Those dip their crooked beak in kindred blood : Some haunt the rushy moor, the lonely woods ; Some bathe their silver plumage in the floods ; Some fly to man, his household gods implore, And gather round his hospitable door, Wait the known call, and find protection there From all the lesser tyrants of the air. The tawny Eagle seats his callow brood High on the cliff, and feasts his young with blood.
Página 139 - With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train: But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit...
Página 96 - And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ; Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaud nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy. Silent, when glad ; affectionate, though shy ; And now his look was most demurely sad ; And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad : Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.
Página 74 - ... loves his home. My trees for you, ye artless tribe, Shall store of fruit preserve ; Oh, let me thus your friendship bribe ! Come, feed without reserve. For you these cherries I protect, To you these plums belong ; Sweet is the fruit that you have picked, But sweeter far your song.