The Life of a Sailor, 第 1 卷

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Key and Biddle, 1833
 

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第 15 頁 - The pain which is felt when we are first transplanted from our native soil, when the living branch is cut from the parent tree, is one of the most poignant which we have to endure through life. There are after-griefs which wound more deeply, which leave behind them scars never to be effaced, which bruise the spirit, and sometimes break the heart ; but never...
第 121 頁 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
第 77 頁 - And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall Hold o'er the dead their carnival, Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb; They were too busy to bark at him!
第 111 頁 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot...
第 16 頁 - ... cans in hand, were everywhere conspicuous; the shrill whistle squeaked, and the voice of the boatswain and his mates rattled like thunder in my ears; the deck was dirty, slippery, and wet; the smells abominable; the whole sight disgusting; and when I remarked the slovenly dress of the midshipmen, dressed in shabby round jackets, glazed hats, no gloves, and some without shoes, I forgot all the glory of Nelson, all the pride of the navy, the terror of France, or the bulwark of Albion; and for nearly...
第 50 頁 - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul : Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul...
第 186 頁 - It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so ; A gentlemanly distance, not too near, If you have got a former friend for foe ; But after being fired at once or twice, The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.
第 199 頁 - THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument ! A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue : The present hours, the future age, For them bewail, to them belong. For...
第 15 頁 - There are after griefs which wound more deeply, which leave behind them scars never to be effaced, which bruise the spirit and sometimes break the heart ; but never do we feel so keenly the want of love, the necessity of being loved, and the sense o^utter desertion, as when we first leave the haven of home, and are, as it were, pushed off upon the stream of life.

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