The Southern literary messenger, Volume 141848 |
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Page 43
... step was essential to the safety , in- consolations of that venerable faith , it forms a terest and honor of the French people , when From that hour Bonaparte lost all hold on those great 1848. ] 43 Napoleon's Captivity .
... step was essential to the safety , in- consolations of that venerable faith , it forms a terest and honor of the French people , when From that hour Bonaparte lost all hold on those great 1848. ] 43 Napoleon's Captivity .
Page 61
... hour of nine , the village curfew and straight- that it is certainly a very graceful little performance , as full of melody as Hyperion and quite worthy of its gifted author . Still we think it marred by many faults and we shall en ...
... hour of nine , the village curfew and straight- that it is certainly a very graceful little performance , as full of melody as Hyperion and quite worthy of its gifted author . Still we think it marred by many faults and we shall en ...
Page 83
... Hour ! " - pronounced hoo - y ! -By this , the doc- The genius of Shakspeare first sanctioned the tor was given to ... hours Of trembling sympathy , intense though fleet , Awoke devotion's most exalted powers As flew the soul its ...
... Hour ! " - pronounced hoo - y ! -By this , the doc- The genius of Shakspeare first sanctioned the tor was given to ... hours Of trembling sympathy , intense though fleet , Awoke devotion's most exalted powers As flew the soul its ...
Page 96
... hour Calls us to penance . Gray in his Ode to Adversity has the following- Thou tamer of the human breast , Whose iron scourge , and torturing hour The bad affright . HOFFMAN'S POEMS . * A REVIEW . hearing in this 96 [ FEBRUARY , Excerpta .
... hour Calls us to penance . Gray in his Ode to Adversity has the following- Thou tamer of the human breast , Whose iron scourge , and torturing hour The bad affright . HOFFMAN'S POEMS . * A REVIEW . hearing in this 96 [ FEBRUARY , Excerpta .
Page 97
... hour . True , the mellowed fragrance of antiquity ground . The Poet , in olden time , was the politi- has not yet embalmed the memories which purify cal guide , the inciter to heroic devotion for country a nation's yearnings while they ...
... hour . True , the mellowed fragrance of antiquity ground . The Poet , in olden time , was the politi- has not yet embalmed the memories which purify cal guide , the inciter to heroic devotion for country a nation's yearnings while they ...
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arms army authority Barbaroux battle beautiful Caen called Carper Carthaginian character Charlotte Charlotte Corday civilization colony Cotsworth court dark death earth Endicott England English eral eyes fact favor feeling France French Gamil genius give Godfrey Hunter Greece hand Hannibal head heart History of Virginia honor hope hour human Hunter Indian interest John king labor lady land light live Livy look Lost River Marat Mary ment mind moral nation nature Nelly never night noble o'er observed Oscan passed Pelasgians person Philip poem poet Point Pleasant political possession present principles Quakeress reader remarkable river Robert Preston Roman Rome seemed Servius Tullius society soul spirit thee thing thou thought tion true truth Vatel Virginia whole Winisfalen words writing young youth
Popular passages
Page 35 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Page 35 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou...
Page 58 - And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning, as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters...
Page 35 - But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered Till I scarcely more than muttered, 'Other friends have flown before On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.
Page 35 - thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
Page 238 - So, cast and mingled with his very frame. The mind's disease, its ruling passion came; Each vital humour which should feed the whole, Soon flows to this, in body and in soul: Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head, As the mind opens, and its functions spread, Imagination plies her dangerous art, And pours it all upon the peccant part.
Page 241 - Mammon led them on, Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell From Heaven; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed In vision beatific.
Page 62 - IN that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters, Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded. There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty, And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest, As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested.
Page 477 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Page 35 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...