Putnam's Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and National Interests, Том 3G.P. Putnam & Son, 1869 |
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50 cents American artist asked beautiful Bess Bokhara Boston Cabul called Carthage Caspian Sea Castleton cholera Church Clara Croton dark death dream Dunlethe Edward Hall Elsie England English eyes face feet French friends Gallatin girl give Gladstone gold hand Harper & Bros head heard heart Herat Holt hope hour hundred Jamoo John Bright knew Korak kraken labor lady Lai-Lai-Lin land lecture Lippincott live London looked ment mind Miss mother N. Y. Harper nature never night once passed Phila picture poem poet political poor Putnam's Magazine rhyme river Roger L'Estrange Rome Russia seemed side sleep society soon soul stood story tell thing thought tion told turned wife woman women word York young
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Сторінка 379 - And it came to pass as he sat at meat with them, he took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him ; and he vanished out of their sight.
Сторінка 496 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Сторінка 473 - They that go down to the sea in ships, and do business in great waters, These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
Сторінка 581 - I allow well ; so that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the country before ; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen in the country where they...
Сторінка 495 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Сторінка 496 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Сторінка 47 - Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep, When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook ; Divinely-warbled voice Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took : The air, such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.
Сторінка 470 - The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: The spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He esteemeth iron as straw, And brass as rotten wood. The arrow cannot make him flee: Slingstones are turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as stubble: He laugheth at the shaking of a spear.
Сторінка 110 - Chips from a German Workshop ; being Essays on the science of Religion, and on Mythology, Traditions, and Customs.
Сторінка 470 - His scales are his pride, Shut up together as with a close seal. One is so near to another, That no air can come between them.