The Library of Historic Characters and Famous Events of All Nations and All Ages, Том 11

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Ainsworth Rand Spofford, Frank Weitenkampf, John Porter Lamberton
J.B. Millet, 1900

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Стр. 352 - ... so far inferior that they had no rights which the white man was bound to respect; and that the Negro may justly and lawfully be reduced to slavery for his benefit.
Стр. 98 - From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north? Lo ! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah! home let him speed, — for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might,...
Стр. 177 - It was at Rome, on the 15th of October 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter,* that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind.
Стр. 193 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Стр. 289 - We have met the enemy and they are ours; two ships, two brigs, one schooner and one sloop.
Стр. 98 - Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning: no rider is there; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Стр. 192 - O'er the grave where our hero was buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his...
Стр. 77 - Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat ; But the Provost, douce man, said, ' Just e'en let him be, The Gude Town is weel quit of that Deil of Dundee.
Стр. 70 - ... a custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.
Стр. 192 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.

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