Tales of Heroes: taken from English history. By the author of “the Juvenile Sunday Library,” etc

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T. Nelson and Sons, 1863 - 226 pagina's
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Populaire passages

Pagina 162 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Pagina 31 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Pagina 53 - Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and your fires; Strike — for the green graves of your sires, God — and your native land...
Pagina 119 - I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness : Yet herein will I imitate the sun ; Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world...
Pagina 53 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: " Strike till the last armed foe expires; Strike for your altars and your fires; Strike for the green graves of your sires...
Pagina 162 - ... for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy ; and can therefore take a view of nature in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones.
Pagina 158 - I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins : return unto me ; for I have redeemed thee.
Pagina 80 - A single jail, in Alfred's golden reign, Could half the nation's criminals contain ; Fair Justice then, without constraint ador'd, Held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword ; No spies were paid, no special juries known ; Blest age ! but ah ! how different from our own...
Pagina 73 - THERE are crowds of men, whose great misfortune it is that they were not bound to mechanic arts or trades; it being absolutely necessary for them to be led by some continual task or employment. These are such as we commonly call dull fellows; persons who, for want of something to do, •out of a certain...
Pagina 26 - TOO late I stayed, forgive the crime, — Unheeded flew the hours; How noiseless falls the foot of Time That only treads on flowers! What eye with clear account remarks The ebbing of his glass, When all its sands are diamond sparks, That dazzle as they pass ? Ah!

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