The Universal Anthology: A Collection of the Best Literature, Ancient, Mediaeval and Modern, with Biographical and Explanatory Notes, Volume 26

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Richard Garnett, Leon Vallée, Alois Brandl
Clarke Company, Limited, 1899

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Page 224 - King! Long live our noble King! God save the King! Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us! God save the King!
Page 233 - My native country, thee, land of the noble free, Thy name I love: I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills like that above.
Page 232 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Page 44 - HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it— ah, but stay, I'll tell you what happened without delay, Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits,— Have you ever heard of that, I say? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Page 117 - THE blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven ; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even ; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven.
Page 232 - Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Page 46 - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh.
Page 38 - Of pictures, I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four — I love so much their style and tone — One Turner, and no more. (A landscape, foreground golden dirt, The sunshine painted with a squirt). Of books but few — some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; The rest upon an upper floor; Some little luxury there . Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream.
Page 122 - Into the fine cloth white like flame Weaving the golden thread, To fashion the birth-robes for them Who are just born, being dead. ' He shall fear, haply, and be dumb : Then...
Page 389 - In one year they sent a million fighters forth South and North, And they built their gods a brazen pillar high As the sky, Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force — Gold, of course. Oh heart ! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns ! Earth's returns For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin ! Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest ! Love is best.

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