Stories of Famous Songs, Volumen2

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J.B. Lippincott Company, 1901
 

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Página 109 - His breath like caller air ; His very foot has music in't, As he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, — In troth, I'm like to greet.
Página 218 - Queen: Send her victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us: God save the Queen.
Página 25 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet, For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal.
Página 19 - Drink to-day, and drown all sorrow ; You shall perhaps not do it to-morrow : Best, while you have it, use your breath ; There is no drinking after death.
Página 96 - twas Claver'se who spoke, " Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke; So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me, Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. " Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!
Página 39 - The mother of Sisera looked out at a window and cried through the lattice Why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots?
Página 207 - O Lord our God, arise! Scatter his enemies, And make them fall; Confound their politics, Frustrate their knavish tricks: On Thee our hopes we fix — God save us all!
Página 184 - His fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so young — so intelligent — so generous — so brave — so everything that we are apt to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid. The noble indignation with which he repelled the charge of treason against his country — the eloquent vindication of his name — and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condemnation -all these entered deeply into every generous bosom, and even his...
Página 26 - But a truce to this strain; for my soul it is sad To think that a heart in humanity clad Should make, like the brutes, such a desolate end, And depart from the light without leaving a friend! Bear softly his bones over the stones; Though a pauper, he's one whom his MAKER yet owns!
Página 161 - Tom he was a piper's son, He learned to play when he was young, But all the tunes that he could play, Was "Over the hills and far away"; Over the hills, and a great way ojff, And the wind will blow my top-knot off.

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