Cyclopaedia of American Literature: Embracing Personal and Critical Notices of Authors, and Selections from Their Writings. From the Earliest Period to the Present Day; with Portraits, Autographs, and Other Illustrations, Том 2,Део 2C. Scribner, 1855 |
Из књиге
Резултати 1-5 од 100
Страница 387
... give it to Mrs. Duffield her- self . " The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger ; and Henry , almost mechanically , obeyed his direction , muttering to himself , " Free and easy , upon my honor . " He had scarcely entered the ...
... give it to Mrs. Duffield her- self . " The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger ; and Henry , almost mechanically , obeyed his direction , muttering to himself , " Free and easy , upon my honor . " He had scarcely entered the ...
Страница 388
... give an additional charm to these de- lightful volumes . In 1846 Mrs. Child published a collection of her magazine stories under the title of Fact and Fio- tion . She has now in press a work in three vo- lumes , one of the most ...
... give an additional charm to these de- lightful volumes . In 1846 Mrs. Child published a collection of her magazine stories under the title of Fact and Fio- tion . She has now in press a work in three vo- lumes , one of the most ...
Страница 390
... give But up the crown , if I could get rid of the cross , then if I lay it down , poor Jonathan must bear it . I have always found that it brought great peace of mind to conquer selfishness , and I will strive to do so now . As my ...
... give But up the crown , if I could get rid of the cross , then if I lay it down , poor Jonathan must bear it . I have always found that it brought great peace of mind to conquer selfishness , and I will strive to do so now . As my ...
Страница 402
... give at least some dignity to the feast , and to exorcise away the ever lurking spirit of evil Did not Jesus sit at meal with publicans aud sinners ? Why then should not That woke the morning with its voice along the Atlantic 402 ...
... give at least some dignity to the feast , and to exorcise away the ever lurking spirit of evil Did not Jesus sit at meal with publicans aud sinners ? Why then should not That woke the morning with its voice along the Atlantic 402 ...
Страница 408
... Give us thy hand , old nobleman of nature , Proud ruler of the forest aristocracy ; The best of blood glows in thy every feature . And thy curled lip speaks scorn for our democracy , Thou wear'st thy titles on that godlike brow ; Let ...
... Give us thy hand , old nobleman of nature , Proud ruler of the forest aristocracy ; The best of blood glows in thy every feature . And thy curled lip speaks scorn for our democracy , Thou wear'st thy titles on that godlike brow ; Let ...
Чести термини и фразе
American appeared beauty became beneath bird born Boston breath bright character Church cloth clouds collection College commenced dark dead death dream duate earth edition England entitled father feel flowers genius Graham's Magazine hand hath heart heaven humor Knickerbocker Magazine labors land lectures light literary literature living look Magazine mind morning mother mountain nature never night o'er passed Phi Beta Kappa Pilgarlick poems poet poetical poetry Pot Pie Professor prose published Putnam's Magazine racter residence Roman round Sambo scene sing sketches smile Society song soul Southern Literary Messenger spirit spring story summer sweet thee thine things thou thought tion Tom Owen tree University of Virginia verse voice volume wild William Ellery Channing WILLIAM HAGUE wind writings York young
Популарни одломци
Страница 526 - Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 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.
Страница 527 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Страница 527 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore, Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never— nevermore.
Страница 439 - Honor charmed the air; And all astir looked kind on her, And called her good as fair — For all God ever gave to her She kept with chary care. She kept with care her beauties rare From lovers warm and true, — For her heart was cold to all but gold, And the rich came not to woo — But honored well are charms to sell If priests the selling do.
Страница 499 - ... in the streets of Boston. The sun was near setting when the march commenced. The roll of the drum, at that unquiet crisis, seemed to go through the streets, less as the martial music of the soldiers, than as a muster-call to the inhabitants themselves.
Страница 443 - In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!
Страница 506 - In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Страница 526 - 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.
Страница 527 - Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Страница 446 - Taught in the school of patience to endure The life of anguish and the death of fire. All their lives long, with the unleavened bread And bitter herbs of exile and its fears, The wasting famine of the heart they fed, And slaked its thirst with marah of their tears.