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amidst ancient arms bear beautiful beneath blue borne bound breast breath breeze bright bring brow burst cave child clear dark dead death deep died dreams earth face fade faint fair fall farewell father fearful fell fled floating flowers forest friends glance gleam gone grave green hall hand hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope hour land leave light lines lone look look'd mighty mournful never night Note o'er once pale pass'd pines rest rock round scene seas seem'd seen shades shadow shining shore silent sleep smile soft song soul sound speak spears spirit spring stars step stood stormy strain streams strong sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou thought tone voice wave weep wild wind woods young youth
Стр. 188 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ! The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own.
Стр. 91 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Стр. 188 - Yet more, the depths have more ! Thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by ; Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry. Dash o'er them, ocean ! in thy scornful play : Man yields them to decay. Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest.
Стр. 151 - Oh, father ! is it vain, This late remorse and deep ? Speak to me, father ! once again, I weep — behold, I weep ! Alas ! my guilty pride and ire ! Were but this work undone, I would give England's crown, my sire ! To hear thee bless thy son.
Стр. 98 - It is a timepiece that advances very regularly near four minutes a day ; and no other group of stars exhibits, to the naked eye, an observation of time so easily made. How often have we heard our guides exclaim, in the savannahs of the Venezuela, or in the desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, 'Midnight is past, the Cross begins to bend!
Стр. 146 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? He never smiled again ! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one...
Стр. 98 - In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend from whom we have long been separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.
Стр. 100 - Anon some wilder portraiture he draws ; Of Nature's savage glories he would speak, — The loneliness of earth that overawes, — Where, resting by some tomb of old Cacique, The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak Nor...
Стр. 133 - We call them far through the silent night, And they speak not from cave or hill; We know, thou bird! that their land is bright, But say, do they love there still ? 1 1 ANSWER TO THE MESSENGER BIRD.
Стр. 98 - How often these words reminded us of that affecting scene where Paul and Virginia, seated near the source of the river of Lataniers, conversed together for the last time ; and where the old man, at the sight of the Southern Cross, warns them that it is time to separate !"— DE HUMBOLDT'S Travels.