The Living Authors of America: 1st serStringer and Townsend, 1850 - Всего страниц: 365 |
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Стр. 24
... look deeply and unshrinkingly into our own souls , we shall be more and more convinced of the fact , that every man's idea of God is founded upon himself , magnified to the utmost extent of that particular man's arithmetical or intel ...
... look deeply and unshrinkingly into our own souls , we shall be more and more convinced of the fact , that every man's idea of God is founded upon himself , magnified to the utmost extent of that particular man's arithmetical or intel ...
Стр. 30
... look of despair he encountered ; and when , a moment afterwards , he removed the rigid member , he beheld the sinking form of the victim , as it gradually settled in the ocean , still struggling , with regular , but impotent strokes of ...
... look of despair he encountered ; and when , a moment afterwards , he removed the rigid member , he beheld the sinking form of the victim , as it gradually settled in the ocean , still struggling , with regular , but impotent strokes of ...
Стр. 31
... , however , an evident look of wonder crossed his mortified features when he first beheld the humbled condition , the thin and whitened locks , and the gene- ral air and bearing of the old man with whom JAMES 31 FENIMORE COOPER .
... , however , an evident look of wonder crossed his mortified features when he first beheld the humbled condition , the thin and whitened locks , and the gene- ral air and bearing of the old man with whom JAMES 31 FENIMORE COOPER .
Стр. 32
... look was ended , ' there can be little harm in speaking truth to one of thy holy office . They have told thee there was a criminal here in the Lagunes , who hath provoked the anger of St. Mark ? ' * * * * * * * * * * " Thou speakest of ...
... look was ended , ' there can be little harm in speaking truth to one of thy holy office . They have told thee there was a criminal here in the Lagunes , who hath provoked the anger of St. Mark ? ' * * * * * * * * * * " Thou speakest of ...
Стр. 34
... looks into the inmost secrets of the heart . Canst thou par- don the error of the patricians , in a contrite spirit for thine own sins ? " 666 " Holy Maria , pray for them , as I now ask mercy in their behalf ! Father , they are ...
... looks into the inmost secrets of the heart . Canst thou par- don the error of the patricians , in a contrite spirit for thine own sins ? " 666 " Holy Maria , pray for them , as I now ask mercy in their behalf ! Father , they are ...
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Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave Halleck hand hath heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW human HYPOLITO intellect JARED SPARKS Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look Margaret Fuller mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote Ralph Waldo Emerson reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis woman word Wordsworth writings
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Стр. 130 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Стр. 127 - The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me Yes! that was the reason (as all men know. In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night. Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Стр. 208 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Стр. 129 - But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; Darkness there and nothing more.
Стр. 128 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of, forgotten lore, — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door: Only this and nothing more.
Стр. 84 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow...
Стр. 194 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him : he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Стр. 219 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows , simple wiles , Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Стр. 127 - Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Стр. 159 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.