The Wellingtonian

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Page 424 - Hers is the loveliness in death. That parts not quite with parting breath ; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb — Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering1 round decay, The farewell beam of feeling past away ! Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth!
Page 408 - On a rock, whose haughty brow, Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 353 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
Page 445 - Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control. These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of herself Would come uncall'd for) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Page 407 - There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
Page 401 - Hawkshawe, fell wounded, and the fusilier battalions, struck by the iron tempest, reeled and staggered like sinking ships ; but suddenly and sternly recovering they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was seen with what a strength and majesty the British soldier fights.
Page 401 - Such a gallant line, issuing from the midst of the smoke and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken multitude, startled the enemy's...
Page 446 - Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Page 401 - No sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no nervous enthusiasm weakened the stability of their order, their flashing eyes were bent on the dark columns in their front, their measured tread shook the ground, their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every formation, their deafening shouts overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd, as slowly and with a horrid carnage it was pushed by the incessant vigour of the attack to the farthest edge of the hill.
Page 446 - A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas.

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