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amongst amusements ancient appear beauty Burchell called carols celebration ceremonies CHAPTER character charm cheerful child Christmas-day church cried my wife customs daugh daughter dear districts of England door England Father Christmas feelings festival Flamborough forms fortune gentleman George George Ferrers girls give Gray's Inn happy heart Heaven Hogmanay honor hope horse Jenkinson king ladies laugh Leigh Hunt Livy look Lord of Misrule madam manner mention merry mirth Miss Wilmot morning Moses neighbor never night observed occasion Olivia once pantomime pleasure poor present readers replied returned revels rich round Saturnalia season seemed sing solemn song soon Sophia spirit Squire Stephen's day superstitions sure thee things Thornhill thou thought tion town Twelfth-night Vicar of Wakefield virtue voice Washington Irving wassail wretched young
Página 122 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Página 177 - And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue ; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue : The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Página 32 - Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Página 106 - And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David : Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord : Hosanna in the highest...
Página 37 - Twas Edwin's self tha't pressed! "Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, Restored to love and thee. " Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign : And shall we never, never part. My life — my all that's mine? " No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true, The sigh that rends thy constant heart Shall break thy Edwin's too.
Página 161 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : % And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Página 77 - Good people all of every sort, Give ear unto my song, 'And if you find it wondrous short It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say. That still a godly race he ran Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes ; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Página 105 - For the Lord shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.
Página 66 - ... post and pair.' All hailed, with uncontrolled delight And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide ; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn By old blue-coated serving-man ; Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high, Crested...
Página 32 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.