The Pathfinder; or, The inland sea

الغلاف الأمامي
Rand McNally, 1883 - 467 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 212 - Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night...
الصفحة 123 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
الصفحة 317 - I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace, — yonder is thy throne; Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice. Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon; and blest a sad abode.
الصفحة 86 - O that some Minstrel's harp were near, To utter notes of gladness, And chase this silence from the air, That fills my heart with sadness...
الصفحة 246 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
الصفحة 268 - It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance; And so am I for Phebe.
الصفحة 165 - ... of fictitiousness and general improbability over it. This comes of Cooper's inadequacy as an observer. The reader will find some examples of Cooper's high talent for inaccurate observation in the account of the shooting-match in The Pathfinder. "A common wrought nail was driven lightly into the target, its head having been first touched with paint.
الصفحة 105 - But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung, And the airs of heaven played round her tongue, When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, And a land where sin had never been, — A land of love and a land of light, Withouten sun or moon or night ; Where the river swa'da living stream, And the light a pure celestial beam : The land of vision it would seem, A still, an everlasting dream.
الصفحة 424 - Were wafted off to seas unknown, Where not a pulse should beat but ours, And we might live, love, die alone! Far from the cruel and the cold, — Where the bright eyes of angels only Should come around us, to behold A paradise so pure and lonely ! Would this be world enough for thee?
الصفحة 28 - Before these fields were shorn and tilled, Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; The melody of waters filled The fresh and boundless wood ; And torrents dashed and rivulets played, And fountains spouted in the shade.

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