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Strana 8 - Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. "And where are they? I pray you tell.
Strana 8 - SEVEN. -A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; •*—Her beauty made me glad. 22 " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Strana 9 - D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish Count is slain. Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail ; And then, we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, "Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed from man to man; But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is my foe: Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.
Strana 185 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling— rejoicing— sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Strana 9 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Strana 185 - And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Strana 8 - Their graves are green, they may be seen,' The little maid replied, 'Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Strana 8 - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side". "How many are you, then, "said I, "If they two are in heaven?
Strana 9 - ... rend your hair for those who never shall return. • Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ; Ho ! burghers of St.
Strana 9 - And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war, Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre.