Pocahontas: A Story of Virginia

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Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1892 - Всего страниц: 366
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Стр. 180 - What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ? Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Стр. 341 - Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Стр. 273 - Come to the bridal chamber, death, Come to the mother's, when she feels, For the first time, her first-born's breath; Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke ; Come in consumption's ghastly form, The...
Стр. 22 - And who (in time) knows whither we may vent The treasure of our tongue ? To what strange shores This gain of our best glory shall be sent, T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores ? What worlds in th...
Стр. 322 - What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave: Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the...
Стр. 273 - Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, death ! Come to the mother when she feels For the first time her firstborn's breath ; — Come when the blessed seals Which close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke...
Стр. 216 - FAREWELL ! — but whenever you welcome the hour, That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Стр. 305 - Oh ! where's the slave, so lowly, Condemn'd to chains unholy, * Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly ? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, • Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing At once may spring To the throne of Him who made it ? Farewell, Erin ! farewell all, Who live to weep our fall...
Стр. 189 - ... to lie cold in the woods, feed upon acorns, roots, and such trash, and be so hunted by you that I can neither rest, eat, nor sleep? But my tired men must watch, and if a twig but break, everyone cryeth, 'There cometh Captain Smith!
Стр. 283 - Were you not afraid to come into my father's country, and caused fear in him and all his people (but me) and fear you here I should call you father : I tell you then I will, and you shall call me child, and so I will be for ever and ever your countryman.

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