A History of American Literature: With a View to the Fundamental Principles Underlying Its Development: a Text Book for Schools and Colleges

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Silver, Burdett, 1896 - 475 стор.
 

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Сторінка 289 - Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
Сторінка 375 - O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart I heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies. Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Сторінка 94 - 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 257 - As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt With his prey laden, So toward the open main, Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden.
Сторінка 41 - The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.
Сторінка 375 - O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here, Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Сторінка 64 - The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! " It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but there is no...
Сторінка 64 - Treason, treason!" echoed from every part of the house. Henry faltered not for an instant, but, taking a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of fire, he added " may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it...
Сторінка 47 - My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. I was put to the grammar school at eight years of age, my father intending to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of the Church.
Сторінка 149 - Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, And mingle among the jostling crowd, Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud...

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