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Sivu 169 - Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes the flowers of poesy bloom In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of the loom. Here Hans Sachs, the cobbler-poet, laureate of the gentle craft, Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters, in huge folios sang and laughed.
Sivu 467 - YE sons of freedom, wake to glory! Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears, and hear their cries! Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie bleeding? To arms! to arms! ye brave! Th" avenging sword unsheath ; March on!
Sivu 312 - O Land ! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great Departed, Into the Silent Land ;
Sivu 531 - YES ! hope may with my strong desire keep pace, And I be undeluded, unbetrayed ; For if of our affections none find grace In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made The world which we inhabit ? Better plea Love cannot have, than that in loving thee...
Sivu 535 - Progress," in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found that it has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it has been more generally read than any other book, except perhaps the Bible.
Sivu 30 - I like, too, that representation they have of the Tree Igdrasil. All Life is figured by them as a Tree. Igdrasil, the Ash-tree of Existence, has its roots...
Sivu 531 - Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course must hold ; Beyond the visible world she soars to seek (For what delights the sense is false and weak) Ideal Form, the universal mould.
Sivu 226 - Then come the wild weather, come sleet or come snow, We will stand by each other, however it blow. Oppression, and sickness., and sorrow, and pain Shall be to our true love as links to the chain.
Sivu 30 - Fates, — the Past, Present, Future ; watering its roots from the Sacred Well. Its ' boughs,' with their buddings and disleafings, — events, things suffered, things done, catastrophes, — stretch through all lands and times. Is not every leaf of it a biography, every fibre there an act or word ? Its boughs are Histories of Nations. The rustle of it is the noise of Human Existence, onwards from of old.
Sivu 279 - Let it be — pass on — No good can come of it — it is not well To meet it — it is an enchanted phantom, A lifeless idol; with its numbing look, It freezes up the blood of man ; and they Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone, Like those who saw Medusa.