History of Bowdoin College: With Biographical Sketches of Its Graduates, from 1806 to 1879, Inclusive

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J. R. Osgood & Company, 1882 - United States - 905 pages
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Page 302 - How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams With its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend! Aladdin's Lamp, and Fortunatus' Purse, That holds the treasures of the universe!
Page 303 - It is too late! Ah, nothing is too late Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles Wrote his grand (Edipus, and Simonides Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers, When each had numbered more than fourscore years, And Theophrastus at fourscore and ten, Had but begun his Characters of Men.
Page 253 - He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
Page 304 - Sinks from its higher levels in the brain ; Whatever poet, orator, or sage May say of it, old age is still old age. It is the waning, not the crescent moon ; The dusk of evening, not the blaze of noon: It is not strength, but weakness; not desire, But its surcease ; not the fierce heat of fire, The burning and consuming element, But that of ashes and of embers spent, In which some living sparks we still discern, Enough to warm, but not enough to burn.
Page 300 - Let me make the songs of a nation, and I care not who makes its laws.
Page 302 - was the gladiators' cry In the arena, standing face to face With death and with the Roman populace. O ye familiar scenes, — ye groves of pine. That once were mine, and are no longer mine; Thou river, widening through the meadows green To the vast sea so near, and yet unseen; Ye halls, in whose seclusion and repose Phantoms of fame, like exhalations, rose And vanished, — we who are about to die Salute you...
Page 304 - Into the arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself survives. As the barometer foretells the storm While still the skies are clear, the weather warm, So something in us, as old age draws near, Betrays the pressure of the atmosphere.
Page 289 - But there was a light in his eye which assured me that nothing was lost. So supreme was his silence that it presently engrossed me to the exclusion of everything else. There was very brilliant discourse, but this silence was much more poetic and fascinating. Fine things were said by the philosophers, but much finer things were implied by the dumbness of this gentleman, with heavy brows and black hair. When he presently rose and went, Emerson, with the
Page 304 - What then ? Shall we sit idly down and say The night hath come; it is no longer day ? The night hath not yet come; we are not quite Cut off from labor by the failing light; Something remains for us to do or dare; Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear...
Page 302 - Write on your doors the saying wise and old", "Be bold ! be bold !" and everywhere — " Be bold ; Be not too bold ! " Yet better the excess Than the defect ; better the more than less ; Better like Hector in the field to die, Than like a perfumed Paris turn and Ну.

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