Middle England from the accession of Henry II. to the death of Elizabeth (1154-1603)

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Boston school supply Company, 1884 - Great Britain
 

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Page 152 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness, and humility : But when the blast of war...
Page 169 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
Page 37 - To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed For our advantage on the bitter cross...
Page 248 - strained ; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes...
Page 253 - Thus sung they in the English boat, A holy and a cheerful Note, And all the way, to guide their Chime, With falling Oars they kept the time.
Page 252 - Ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that rowed along The listening winds received this song : — " What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the watery maze...
Page 4 - twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt : the...
Page 29 - exclaimed Ivanhoe. " Does he blench from the helm when the. wind blows highest? " " He blenches not, he blenches not ! " said Rebecca. " I see him now. He leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican.
Page 253 - Ambergris on shore. He cast (of which we rather boast) The Gospel's Pearl upon our Coast. And in these Rocks for us did frame A Temple, where to sound his Name. Oh let our Voice his Praise exalt, Till it arrive at Heaven's Vault : Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.
Page 169 - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.

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