 | 1822 - 764 стор.
...Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous .woods... | |
 | 1822 - 298 стор.
...Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
 | John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 стор.
..., Are ginning on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes . •„ That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings . . Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
 | 1825 - 426 стор.
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death. Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. So -l..ni thou rest — and what if thou shall fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take... | |
 | 1829 - 436 стор.
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
 | 1829 - 516 стор.
...Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages — all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where... | |
 | Cornelius Roosevelt Duffie - 1829 - 444 стор.
...Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. " All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. ——Millions — since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep."... | |
 | George Barrell Cheever - 1830 - 516 стор.
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
 | Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 стор.
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber In its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
 | 1832 - 604 стор.
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
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All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. 
