The Oberlin Review, Томи 14 – 15

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Union Library Association, 1886

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Сторінка 7 - No author, without a trial, can conceive of the difficulty of writing a romance about a country where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a commonplace prosperity, in broad and simple daylight, as is happily the case with my dear native land.
Сторінка 74 - But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began...
Сторінка 113 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Сторінка 41 - HE clasps the crag with hooked hands ; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Сторінка 230 - BRIGHT be the place of thy soul ! No lovelier spirit than thine E'er burst from its mortal control, In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine, As thy soul shall immortally be ; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee. Light be the turf of thy tomb ! May its verdure like emeralds be : There should not be the shadow of gloom In aught that reminds us of thee.
Сторінка 104 - Nature! great parent! whose unceasing hand Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year, How mighty, how majestic, are thy works!
Сторінка 29 - Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep ! O God ! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God ! can I not save One from the pitiless wave ? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
Сторінка 222 - The sword, the sword is made keen ; the iron has opened its mouth ; The corn is red that was green ; it is bound for the sheaves of the south. The sound of a word was shed, the sound of the wind as a breath, In the ears of the souls that were dead, in the dust of the deepness of death; Where the face of the moon is taken, the ways of the stars undone, The light of the whole sky shaken, the light of the face of the sun : Where the...
Сторінка 220 - SACRED Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom Gods, and men, and beasts have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine. If with mists of evening dew Thou dost nourish these young flowers Till they grow, in scent and hue, Fairest children of the hours, Breathe thine influence most divine On thine own child, Proserpine.
Сторінка 89 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells...

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