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acquaintance admiration American ancient Andrew Bichel Antisana appeared beautiful Beranger Bichel Bordentown Bowring bright called Catharine character Conradin Constantinople Corroy countenance daughter delightful Digamma effect England English eyes fame father fear feel flowers genius gentleman give hand happy head heart honor house of wisdom hundred Iliad imagination interest John Bowring lady letters light literary literature look manner Mantua mind Montanos moral nation nature never New-York noble novel o'er observed Palenque pass Pelasgian person Philadelphia phrenology poet poetry Pookah possession present racter reader Review ruins scene seemed society song Spanish spirit steamboat story sublime Tabasco taste terror thee Theodore thing thou thought thousand TIMOTHY FLINT tion travellers truth verses village vols volumes Westminster Review whole words writer young
Page 410 - Who toss the golden and the flame-like flowers, And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high, Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not - ye have played Among the palms of Mexico and vines Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks That from the fountains of Sonora glide Into the calm Pacific - have ye fanned A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?
Page 114 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: it stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 318 - In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief: Yet not unmeet it was that one like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
Page 264 - YE say, they all have passed away, That noble race and brave; That their light canoes have vanished From off the crested wave; That, 'mid the forests where they roamed, There rings no hunter's shout; But their name is on your waters, — Ye may not wash it out.
Page 210 - Or midst the chase, on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell : Each lonely scene shall thee restore ; For thee the tear be duly shed ; Beloved, till life can charm no more ; And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
Page 265 - Wachuset hides its lingering voice Within his rocky heart, And Alleghany graves its tone Throughout his lofty chart; Monadnock on his forehead hoar Doth seal the sacred trust, Your mountains build their monument, Though ye destroy their dust.
Page 412 - Thus change the forms of being. Thus arise Races of living things, glorious in strength, And perish, as the quickening breath of God Fills them, or is withdrawn.
Page 477 - But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule. 0 dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The thochts o' bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path, And blind my een wi...
Page 413 - And pools whose issues swell the Oregon, He rears his little Venice. In these plains The bison feeds no more. Twice twenty leagues Beyond remotest smoke of hunter's camp Roams the majestic brute, in herds that shake The earth with thundering steps, — yet here I meet His ancient footprints stamped beside the pool.
Page 308 - The innocent prattle of his children takes out the sting of a man's poverty. But the children of the very poor do not prattle. It is none of the least frightful features in that condition, that there is no childishness in its dwellings. Poor people, said a sensible old nurse to us once, do not bring up their children ; they drag them up.