The American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review, 第 3 巻H. Biglow, 1912 |
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American appears beautiful bill boat body Brono called canal Caswallon cause character cold common considerable coun dark death dorsal fin Dropsy earth English equal Europe eyes feel feet Fever fire fixed air flax France French genius genus give head heart heat heaven Hengist honour inches Inflammation Italy king labour lady lake lake Erie land late length less letter light lord Mamay manner means ment mind Mitchill Monguls Moon's mountains nation nature nearly neral never New-York night o'er observed Paris passed persons poet present prince principles published quadrupeds racter Rafinesque readers remarks Russia Saxon Semid side Sikhs society soul Spain Spanish species spirit Stremma tain thee thing thou tion ture United Venezuela vessel Vortigern whole Zaira
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203 ページ - Time! the beautifier of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter And only healer when the heart hath bled; Time! the corrector where our judgments err, The test of truth, love — sole philosopher, For all beside are sophists — from thy thrift, Which never loses though it doth defer— Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift...
398 ページ - When I was yet a child, no childish play To me was pleasing ; all my mind was set Serious to learn and know, and thence to do What might be public good; myself I thought Born to that end, born to promote all truth, All righteous things...
202 ページ - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse: And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues •*> With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, — till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
203 ページ - Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her! Ye Elements! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.
203 ページ - Sick— sick; unfound the boon— unslaked the thirst. Though to the last, in verge of our decay, Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first— But all too late, — so are we doubly curst. Love, fame, ambition, avarice — 'tis the same, Each idle— and all ill— and none the worst— For all are meteors with a different name, And death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame.
395 ページ - my history will not be long: the life that is devoted to knowledge passes silently away, and is very little diversified by events. To talk in public, to think in solitude, to read and to hear, to inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar. He wanders about the world without pomp or terror, and is neither known nor valued but by men like himself.
202 ページ - But never yet hath seen, nor e'er shall see, The naked eye, thy form, as it should be ; The mind hath made thee, as it peopled heaven, Even with its own desiring phantasy, And to a thought such shape and image given, As haunts the unquench'd soul — parch'd — wearied — wrung — and riven. Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation ; — where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone.
203 ページ - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but nature more...
368 ページ - Mr. President — Though I am truly sensible of the high honor done me, in this appointment, yet I feel great distress, from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust.
161 ページ - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war ; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...