The Port Folio (Google eBook)

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Editor and Asbury Dickens, 1822 - Philadelphia (Pa.)
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Page 480 - Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by ; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand, Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagined right, above control, While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man.
Page 178 - And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every where, before the LORD destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the LORD, like the land of Egypt, as thou comest unto Zoar.
Page 493 - ... against the challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening helmets and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which, fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
Page 456 - On the morning of that day, his attendants, alarmed at the evident symptoms of approaching dissolution, came precipitately to call the friend who has now the melancholy task of recording the mournful event: not a moment was lost in repairing to his house. He was lying on his bed in a posture of meditation ; and the only symptom of remaining life, was a small degree of motion in the heart, which after a few seconds ceased, and he expired without a pang or groan.
Page 268 - For it is written in the law of Moses, Thou shalt not muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn.
Page 406 - Whatever decks the velvet field, Whate'er the circling seasons yield, Whatever buds, whatever blows, For thee it buds, for thee it grows. Nor yet art thou the peasant's fear, To him thy friendly notes are dear; For thou art mild as matin dew, And still, when summer's flowery hue Begins to paint the bloomy plain, We hear thy sweet prophetic strain; Thy sweet prophetic strain we hear, And bless the notes and thee revere! The Muses love thy shrilly tone ; Apollo calls thee all his own; 'Twas he who...
Page 479 - ... government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure ! Still to ourselves in every place...
Page 275 - Common sense is the just result of the sum-total of such unconscious impressions in the ordinary occurrences of life, as they are treasured up in the memory, and called out by the occasion. Genius and taste depend much upon the same principle exercised on loftier ground and in more unusual combinations.
Page 502 - Why do we shed the rose's bloom Upon the cold, insensate tomb? Can flowery breeze, or odour's breath, Affect the slumbering chill of death? No, no ; I ask no balm to steep With fragrant tears my bed of sleep : But now, while every pulse is glowing, Now let me breathe the balsam flowing ; Now let the rose, with blush of fire, Upon my brow its scent expire...
Page 22 - Farewell Letters to a Few Friends in Britain and America, on returning to Bengal in 1821. By William Ward of Serampore.

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