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The Jewel, Sacred, Domestic, Narrative and Lyrical Poems Selected From Eminent Authors by T. Sloper
The Jewel Sacred Domestic Narrative and Lyrical Poems Selected From Eminent Authors by T Sloper Author:Jewel General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1839 Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million book... more »s for free. Excerpt: Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when autumn has blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts butonce heaved, and for ever grew still. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! LORD BYRON. ODE TO EVENING. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine ear, Like thy own brawling springs, Thy springs, and dying gales ; O nymph reserv'd, while now the bright-hair'd sun, Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, With brede etherial wove, O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hushed, save where the weak-ey'd bat, With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedles...« less