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الصفحة 143 - 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. With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then, And new-born infant, died.
الصفحة 142 - She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round 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.
الصفحة 6 - Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? " " Not there, not there, my child...
الصفحة 144 - They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun: But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won And our good Prince Eugene." "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory.
الصفحة 142 - 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. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round. Which he beside the rivulet In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found.
الصفحة 78 - O Thou by whom we come to God, The Life, the Truth, the Way, The path of prayer Thyself hast trod ;
الصفحة 111 - And men stood breathless in their dread, And baffled in their skill ; But One was there, who rose and said To the wild sea— Be still!
الصفحة 78 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
الصفحة 78 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.

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