Westward Ho!: Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth, Band 3


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Seite 304 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow...
Seite 35 - There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me— That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honour and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Seite 236 - The Daughter of Debate, that eke discord doth sow, Shall reap no gain where former rule hath taught still peace to grow No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port; Our realm it brooks no stranger's force, let them elsewhere resort. Our rusty sword with rest shall first his edge employ, To poll their tops that seek such change and gape for joy.
Seite 314 - At least, the only fire by which he has answered his votaries, has been that of English cannon : and the Armada, " gathering itself into a roundel," will fight no more, but make the best of its way to Calais, where perhaps the Guises
Seite 25 - All amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree. Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours Thither all their bounties bring.
Seite 50 - ... as huge and dark as the pillars of some Hindoo shrine ; or a parrot swung and screamed at them from an overhanging bough; or a, thirsty monkey slid lazily down a liana to the surface of the stream, dipped up the water in his tiny hand , and started chattering back, as his eyes met those of some foul alligator peering upward through the clear depths below.
Seite 352 - cried Amyas, hurling his sword far into the sea, ' to lose my right, my right! when it was in my very grasp ! Unmerciful ! ' A crack which rent the sky, and made the granite ring and quiver ; a bright world of flame, and then a blank of utter darkness, against which stood out, glowing red-hot, every mast, and sail, and rock, and Salvation Yeo as he stood just in front of Amyas, the tiller in his hand. All red-hot, transfigured into fire ; and behind, the black, black night. A whisper, a rustling...
Seite 62 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
Seite 20 - Yes," replied Burley, with stern and gloomy deliberation, " I am that John Balfour, who promised to lay thy head where thou should'st never lift it again ; and God do so to me, and more also, if I do not redeem my word.

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