The American pastor in Europe, ed. by J. Cumming

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Стр. 80 - The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago; The Scipios...
Стр. 6 - Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.
Стр. 195 - Midst others of less note came one frail form, A phantom among men, companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm, Whose thunder is its knell.
Стр. 220 - The hill of the Capitol, on which we sit, was formerly the head of the Roman empire, the citadel of the earth, the terror of kings ; illustrated by the footsteps of so many triumphs, enriched with the spoils and tributes of so many nations. This spectacle of the world, how is it fallen ! how changed ! how defaced ! the path of victory is obliterated by vines, and the benches of the senators are concealed by a dunghill.
Стр. 382 - A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, On virtue still, and nature's pleasing themes...
Стр. 181 - Arcadians thought him Jove ; and said they saw The mighty Thunderer with majestic awe, Who shook his shield, and dealt his bolts around, And scattered tempests on the teeming ground.
Стр. 47 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible: and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in a dream...
Стр. 55 - The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame. Oh, God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress...
Стр. 155 - Gul in her bloom ; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Стр. 385 - Hampton Court ? Nay ! to the King's Court ? The King's Court Should have the excellence! But Hampton Court Hath the pre-eminence; And York's Place, With my Lord's Grace!

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