The universal anthology: a collection of the best literature, ancient, mediæval and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes, 第 8 巻

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Richard Garnett, Leon Vallée, Alois Brandl
The Clarke Company., 1899
 

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206 ページ - I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
127 ページ - Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us: The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in ; At the devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold...
131 ページ - Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees Bending to counterfeit a breeze; Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew; Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief With quaint arabesques...
258 ページ - In the midst of life we are in death : of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased...
130 ページ - As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, He was ware of a leper, crouched by the same, Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate; And a loathing over Sir Launfal came, The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, The flesh 'neath his armor...
133 ページ - When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust, He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink And gave the leper to eat and drink...
127 ページ - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
134 ページ - In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail ; Behold it is here — this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee, This water His blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need ; Not what we give, but what we share — For the gift without the giver is bare ; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three— Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
398 ページ - Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles. Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins: the place that once knew them, knows them no more — nay, many a race since theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they occupied with all...
130 ページ - DOWN swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old ; On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek ; It carried a shiver everywhere ' From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare ; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; All night by the white stars...

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