An Eastern Tour at Home

الغلاف الأمامي
.D McKay, 1889 - 286 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 122 - I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.
الصفحة 129 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...
الصفحة 245 - Build me straight, O worthy Master, Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!
الصفحة 238 - The mariner remembers when a child, On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink ; And when, returning from adventures wild, He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink. Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same Year after year, through all the silent night, Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame, Shines on that inextinguishable light...
الصفحة 254 - THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
الصفحة 129 - A h ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, The cries of agony...
الصفحة 170 - Westward the course of empire takes its way ; The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; Time's noblest offspring is the last.
الصفحة 188 - The buildings are handsome, joyning one to the other as in London; with many large streets, most of them paved with pebble stone. In the high street towards the Common, there are fair buildings, some of stone ; and, at the east end of the [2] town, one amongst the rest, built by the shore by Mr.
الصفحة 140 - The voice of Massachusetts! Of her free sons and daughters, Deep calling unto deep aloud, the sound of many waters! Against the burden of that voice what tyrant power shall stand? No fetters in the Bay State!
الصفحة 140 - We wash our hands forever of your sin and shame and curse. A voice from lips whereon the coal from Freedom's shrine hath been, Thrilled, as but yesterday, the hearts of Berkshire's mountain men : The echoes of that solemn voice are sadly lingering still In all our sunny valleys, on every wind-swept hill.

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