The American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review, Том 1H. Biglow, Orville Luther Holley H. Bigelow, Esq., editor and proprietor, 1817 |
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Страница 10
... nature's breast the spirit of her hues . LXXXVIII . " Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires , ' tis to be forgiven , That in our aspirations to be great , Our ...
... nature's breast the spirit of her hues . LXXXVIII . " Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires , ' tis to be forgiven , That in our aspirations to be great , Our ...
Страница 13
... nature , we must gulp down this be not eulogy sufficient , let it be broom - stick and all . allowed to be original ; for there is a ' We really must make a stand some- land of dreams with which poets hold where for the rights of common ...
... nature , we must gulp down this be not eulogy sufficient , let it be broom - stick and all . allowed to be original ; for there is a ' We really must make a stand some- land of dreams with which poets hold where for the rights of common ...
Страница 14
... nature ; and if domestic events and social man- ners are the theme , all the natural af- fections , ties , charities , and emotions of the heart , are displaced by a monstrous progeny of vice and sentiment , an as- semblage of ludicrous ...
... nature ; and if domestic events and social man- ners are the theme , all the natural af- fections , ties , charities , and emotions of the heart , are displaced by a monstrous progeny of vice and sentiment , an as- semblage of ludicrous ...
Страница 20
... nature , and with cal philosophy is amusingly detailed in less compunction or conflict in his bo- the epilogue to the piece , from which , som than Milton's devil expressed on small as is our general esteem for these the eve of ...
... nature , and with cal philosophy is amusingly detailed in less compunction or conflict in his bo- the epilogue to the piece , from which , som than Milton's devil expressed on small as is our general esteem for these the eve of ...
Страница 21
... nature or the stress of passion . The events are of ordinary occurrence and of epheme- ral frequency in vicious society ; and though the author has raised them to and describing them , and the vivacious tragic dignity by his manner of ...
... nature or the stress of passion . The events are of ordinary occurrence and of epheme- ral frequency in vicious society ; and though the author has raised them to and describing them , and the vivacious tragic dignity by his manner of ...
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Страница 10 - At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Страница 296 - 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. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Страница 296 - 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.
Страница 296 - 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.
Страница 296 - Oh ! when a Mother meets on high The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight...
Страница 349 - Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine ; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger ; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who but of her anon.
Страница 9 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Страница 296 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Страница 349 - Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn winds were at their evening song. These were my pastimes, and to be alone ; For if the beings, of whom I was one, — Hating to be so, — cross'd me in my path, I felt myself degraded back to them, And was all clay again.
Страница 422 - I stoop not to despair; For I have battled with mine agony, And made me wings wherewith to overfly The narrow circus of my dungeon wall...