Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland, Switzerland, Greece, Russia, Asia, 3 America 5, Volume 10

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Page 242 - Who called you forth from night and utter death, From dark and icy caverns...
Page 137 - Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these A Captain? A Lieutenant? A Mate — first, second, third? No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor, pressed by Tourville for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Herve Riel, the Croisickese. And "What mockery or malice have we here?
Page 140 - Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run? — Since 'tis ask and have, I may — Since the others go ashore — Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!
Page 136 - Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the 'Formidable...
Page 114 - A fair but froward infant her own care, Kissing its cries away as these awake; — Is it not better thus our lives to wear, Than join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict or bear?
Page 138 - Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this 'Formidable...
Page 136 - Then was called a council straight; Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? — Better run the ships aground!
Page 241 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Page 139 - Though I find the speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the lips : You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still.
Page 109 - We two are the greatest folks here to-day !' And the priests, with awe, as such freaks they saw Said, The devil must be in that little Jackdaw !' The feast was over, the board was...

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