The Atlantic Souvenir: A Christmas and New Year's Offering. 1826-1832H.C. Carey & I. Lea, 1826 |
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Anthony's Nose arms Arnold barque beauty Bertha blessed Bon Homme Richard Bonchard bosom bride bright calomel Cecilia charm Christian Colonel Lamethe command cried daugh death delight Demetrius Diamond Island Eve of St exclaimed eyes Eyloff father fear feelings Filippo flowers Françoise girl grave hand happy head heard heart heaven honour hope immortal song Iroquois isle Jones Julia lake land light look Lord Byron lover Lucerne maiden Mekaia ment merchant misanthrope morning Moscharr mother mountains mysterious unknown nature never night noble o'er Osman passed Pére Mésnard prince Potemkin racter replied rock romantic scene secret water seemed seen Senor Don Pedro shore side silent young lady smile song soon Sophia spirit spot stood storm stranger Swiss Switzerland Talasco tears Texel thee thou thought tion trees turned Underwald Utawas Vaivode vessel voice Waldstetten wandered youth
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Стр. 66 - But if, around my place of sleep, The friends I love should come to weep, They might not haste to go. Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom Should keep them, lingering by my tomb.
Стр. 135 - OH, fairest of the rural maids ! Thy birth was in the forest shades ; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thine infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild ; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy face. The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks ; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves.
Стр. 65 - There through the long, long summer hours, The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale close beside my cell ; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife bee and humming-bird.
Стр. 135 - ... infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy face. The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks ; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves. Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen ; Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. The forest depths, by foot unpressed, Are not more sinless...
Стр. 265 - When Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out from the land of bondage came, Her fathers' God before her moved, An awful guide in smoke and flame. By day, along the astonished lands, The cloudy pillar glided slow ; By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands Returned the fiery column's glow. There rose the choral hymn of praise, And trump and timbrel...
Стр. 65 - And what if cheerful shouts at noon Come, from the village sent, Or songs of maids, beneath the moon With fairy laughter blent? And what if, in the evening light, Betrothed lovers walk in sight Of my low monument?
Стр. 238 - Ranger, and to have detained him, until through his means, a general and fair exchange of prisoners, as well in Europe as in America, had been effected. " When I was informed by some men whom I met at landing, that his lordship was absent, I walked back to my boat, determined to leave the island.
Стр. 266 - With priest's and warrior's voice between. No portents now our foes amaze, Forsaken Israel wanders lone : Our fathers would not know THY ways, And THOU hast left them to their own. But, present still, though now unseen ! When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of THEE a cloudy screen To temper the deceitful ray. And oh, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be THOU, long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light ! Our harps we left by Babel's...
Стр. 266 - To temper the deceitful ray. And oh, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be THOU, long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light ! Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams, And mute are timbrel, trump, and' horn. But THOU hast said, The blood of goat, The flesh of rams, I will not prize ; A contrite heart, a humble thought, Are mine accepted sacrifice.