The Poets of Connecticut: With Biographical Sketches ...

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Charles William Everest
Case, Tiffany and Burnham, 1844 - 468 páginas
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Página 229 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band : " Strike —till the last armed foe expires ; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires ; God— and your native land...
Página 248 - ... of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea: And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the wave his own; And when the ship from his fury flies, Where the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore; Then far below in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and gold-fish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly, Through...
Página 232 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days ! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Página 220 - There have been loftier themes than his, And longer scrolls, and louder lyres, And lays lit up with Poesy's Purer and holier fires : Yet read the names that know not death ; Few nobler ones than Burns are there ; And few have won a greener wreath Than that which binds his hair. His is that language of the heart In which the answering heart would speak, Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start, Or the smile light the cheek ; And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time,...
Página 221 - 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.
Página 267 - From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side ! Yea, what is all the riot man can make In his short life, to thy unceasing roar ! And yet, bold Babbler 1 what art thou to Him, Who drowned a world, and heaped the waters far Above its loftiest mountains ? — a light wave, That breaks and whispers of its Maker's might 1 BRAINARD.
Página 146 - The pilgrim exile, — sainted name ! The hill whose icy brow Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, In the morning's flame burns now. And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night On the hillside and the sea, Still lies where he laid his houseless head, — But the Pilgrim! where is he? The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest: When summer's throned on high, And the world's warm breast is in verdure drest, Go, stand on the hill where they lie.
Página 309 - He was admitted to the bar, and commenced the practice of his profession in his native town ; but before the end of two years he was elected a Representative in the State Legislature, and during his second year's service was chosen Speaker of the House.
Página 145 - He lives ! — in all the past He lives ; nor, to the last, Of seeing him again will I despair ; In dreams I see him now, And on his angel brow I see it written,
Página 232 - Oh, Sir ! the good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.

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