The Southern literary messenger, 第 8 卷1842 |
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Abbas Mirza admiration American appeared arms beautiful Brackenridge British called cause character Christian Cicero command Corolinn dark death deep Demosthenes Dragut duty earth effect eloquence enemies England Evelyn Everington eyes fair favor fear feeling flowers friends genius give Goletta Greece Hamors hand happiness heard heart heaven honor hope hour human labor light lips living look Lord Aberdeen Mehedia ment mind moral Mordante nations nature Navy ness never night o'er object officers once orator passed peace persons poem poet popular present prince Quintuple Alliance racter readers rience right of search scarcely seemed ships slave slave-trade smile soon sorrow soul Southern Literary Messenger Spain spirit sweet tears thee thing thou thought tion Tripoli true truth vessels voice whole words write young youth
热门引用章节
第23页 - The voice at midnight came, He started up to hear ; A mortal arrow pierced his frame — He fell, but felt no fear.
第41页 - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile, she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
第57页 - MAIDENHOOD. mAIDEN ! with the meek brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies, Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run ! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet...
第247页 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come when his task of fame is wrought; Come with her laurel-leaf...
第40页 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd, With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon, Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez, and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
第153页 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
第302页 - And wi' the lave ilk merry morn Could rank my rig and lass, Still shearing, and clearing The tither stocked raw, Wi' claivers, an' haivers, Wearing the day awa : Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) A wish that to my latest hour Shall strongly heave my breast ; That I for poor auld Scotland's sake, Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make, Or sing a sang at least.
第41页 - St Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold : Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith...
第82页 - No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: As thus; Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel...
第245页 - Strong sense, deep feeling, passions strong, A hate of tyrant and of knave, A love of right, a scorn of wrong, Of coward and of slave ; A kind, true heart, a spirit high, That could not fear and would not bow, Were written in his manly eye And on his manly brow.