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answer approach arms army beautiful began Born called carried close clouds comes dark death died door earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning England English eyes face fall father fear feet field fire followed gave give half hand head heard heart hills hope horse hour John King knew land light live looked Lord means miles morning mother move nature never night once pass play rain reached ride rise river rose round seemed seen shore side sight soon sound stand stone stood story taken thee thing thou thought took trees turned voice walk wall waves whole wild wind wood young
Page 69 - Union to your collective and individual happiness ; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and prosperity ; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can, in any event, be abandoned ; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the...
Page 206 - When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.
Page 66 - Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults. Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.
Page 118 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow. And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Page 132 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Page 68 - Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace! peace!
Page 216 - Now strike the golden lyre again! A louder yet, and yet a louder strain, Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark! the horrid sound Has raised up his head! As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge! revenge!
Page 68 - Will it be when we are totally disarmed and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?