Tahoe: Or, Life in California. A Romance

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J. P. Harrison & Company, 1881 - California - 245 pages
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Page 127 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 125 - 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 37 - ... may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it...
Page 158 - Murder? Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Page 145 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 208 - Before beginning, and without an end, As space eternal and as surety sure, Is fixed a Power divine which moves to good, Only its laws endure.
Page 86 - And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face...
Page 97 - Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes : And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.
Page 209 - Enter the path ! There is no grief like Hate ! No pains like passion, no deceit like sense ! Enter the path ! far hath he gone whose foot Treads down one fond offence. Enter the Path ! There spring the healing streams ' Quenching all thirst ! there bloom th...
Page 114 - To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemned alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, The unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

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