The Annual Anthology, Volume 2

Front Cover
Biggs and Company, 1800


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Page 36 - twas a famous victory! "My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly ; So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
Page 261 - And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls helter-skelter they pour, And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below, And all at once to the Bishop they go.
Page 34 - IT was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
Page 142 - With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity ! Ah ! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious sun ! Shine in the slant beams, of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds ! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves ! And kindle, thou blue ocean !L_So my Friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood.
Page 35 - Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found That was so large and smooth and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh "Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Page 143 - My gentle-hearted Charles ! when the last rook Beat its straight path along the dusky air Homewards, I blest it...
Page 35 - twas all about,' Young Peterkin, he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes; 'Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for.
Page 143 - Was richly tinged, and a deep radiance lay Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue Through the late twilight: and though now the bat Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters, Yet still the solitary humble bee Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure...
Page 140 - WELL, they are gone, and here must I remain — This Lime-tree Bower my Prison ! I have lost Beauties and Feelings, such as would have been Most sweet to my remembrance even when Age Had...
Page 259 - So then to his palace returned he, And he sate down to supper merrily, And he slept that night like an innocent man, But bishop Hatto never slept again. In the morning as he entered the hall, Where his picture hung against the wall, A sweat like death all over him came, For the rats had eaten it out of the frame. As he look'd, there came a man from his farm. He had a countenance white with alarm, My lord, I opened your granaries this morn, And the rats had eaten all your corn.

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