The United States Magazine and Democratic Review

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Langtree and O'Sullivan, 1842
 

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Стр. 219 - Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you " ? That was the doctrine of Lao-tsze.
Стр. 184 - I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee ! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse; For this I sought thee. "Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the ger-falcon ; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on.
Стр. 317 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Стр. 185 - I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid, And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted. " Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall, Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrels stand To hear my story.
Стр. 230 - The future, till the past be gulf d in darkness, It is not of my search. — My mother Earth ! And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. And thou, the bright eye of the universe, That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart. And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance ; when a leap, A stir, a motion,...
Стр. 186 - Three weeks we westward bore. And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which to this very hour Stands looking seaward. "There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother: Death closed her mild blue eyes; Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another!
Стр. 19 - Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, To step aside is human.
Стр. 439 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Стр. 52 - There is no Church, sayest thou? The voice of Prophecy has gone dumb? This is even what I dispute: but in any case, hast thou not still Preaching enough? A Preaching Friar settles himself in every village; and builds a pulpit, which he calls Newspaper. Therefrom he preaches what most momentous doctrine is in him, for man's salvation; and dost not thou listen, and believe?
Стр. 185 - Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender ; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor.

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