Affection: with other poems (Google eBook)

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Printed for the author, by T. Bensley, and sold by W. Miller, 1807 - 210 pages
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Page 206 - Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.
Page 137 - Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Page 113 - Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread, But, the same couch beneath, Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, Tremendous still in death ! Ah, what was then...
Page 186 - For him, the milk or corn prepare. The storm is o'er; the tempest past; And Mercy's voice has hush'd the blast. The wind is heard in whispers low, The White Man, far away must go; But ever in his heart will bear Remembrance of the Negro's care.
Page 137 - Land of my sires ! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand ! Still as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left; And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill.
Page 187 - With man it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden...
Page 136 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Page 184 - The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these : " The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk no wife to grind his corn.
Page 164 - Do not strike him into that most dreadful of all human conditions, the orphanage that springs not from the grave, that falls not from the hand of Providence or the stroke of death ; but comes before its time, anticipated and inflicted by the remorseless cruelty of parental guilt.
Page 183 - About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass the night in this manner, and had turned my horse loose that he might graze at liberty, a woman, returning from the labours of the field, stopped to observe me, and perceiving that I was weary and dejected, inquired into my situation, which I briefly explained to her; whereupon, with looks of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and told me to follow her.

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