The Southern literary messenger, Volum 141848 |
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Side 2
... poet , " Eheu fugaces , Postume , Postume , Labuntur anni . " " gladsome light " of letters , to forget not the Mag- azine , which has occupied in former times so hon- ored a place in their affections . We appeal to the large number of ...
... poet , " Eheu fugaces , Postume , Postume , Labuntur anni . " " gladsome light " of letters , to forget not the Mag- azine , which has occupied in former times so hon- ored a place in their affections . We appeal to the large number of ...
Side 12
... poet , the better part of whose " flesh " ought to be " grass , " or something else that is clothed in rural livery . " Lamb " in Lon- don was a standing dish before Charles became a notable , and this serving so long an apprenticeship ...
... poet , the better part of whose " flesh " ought to be " grass , " or something else that is clothed in rural livery . " Lamb " in Lon- don was a standing dish before Charles became a notable , and this serving so long an apprenticeship ...
Side 14
... poet's life . " Nature with folded hands stands there , " " Wise with the lore of centuries , What tales , if there were tongues in trees , That giant Elm could tell . " 66 " In the centre of the public square , in the beauti- ful town ...
... poet's life . " Nature with folded hands stands there , " " Wise with the lore of centuries , What tales , if there were tongues in trees , That giant Elm could tell . " 66 " In the centre of the public square , in the beauti- ful town ...
Side 18
... poet , uneulogised by the historian , un- in Greenbriar , and having marched more than honored by their country . Tell it not in Gath , a hundred and fifty miles through a pathless publish it not in the streets of Ascalon . Let forest ...
... poet , uneulogised by the historian , un- in Greenbriar , and having marched more than honored by their country . Tell it not in Gath , a hundred and fifty miles through a pathless publish it not in the streets of Ascalon . Let forest ...
Side 27
... - day , my heart and harp And strew a poet's blessings , like flowers , beneath thy feet ! would twine The roses of affection to decorate thy shrine ! Two years ! alas , Medora ! I write the 1848. ] 27 Broken Links from a Rhymer's Chain .
... - day , my heart and harp And strew a poet's blessings , like flowers , beneath thy feet ! would twine The roses of affection to decorate thy shrine ! Two years ! alas , Medora ! I write the 1848. ] 27 Broken Links from a Rhymer's Chain .
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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
Populære avsnitt
Side 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...
Side 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...
Side 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...
Side 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.
Side 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!
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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...