Transatlantic Sketches, Comprising Visits to the Most Interesting Scenes in North and South America, and the West Indies, Volume 1

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R. Bentley, 1833 - 418 pages

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Page 219 - And he went forth — alone! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea — he went his way, Sick and heart-broken, and alone — to die! — For God had cursed the leper! It was noon, And...
Page 383 - Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted powers, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours ! PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.
Page 196 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Page 33 - ... lively prospects, hills so raised here and there over the valleys, the river winding into divers branches, the plains adjoining without bush or stubble, all fair green grass, the ground of hard sand, easy to march on either for horse or foot, the deer crossing in every path, the birds towards the evening singing on every tree with a thousand several tunes, cranes and herons of white, crimson, and carnation, perching on the river's side, the air fresh, with a gentle easterly wind ; and every stone...
Page 302 - It Is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord : and to sing praises unto thy name, O Most High; To show forth thy lovingkindness in the morning: and thy faithfulness every night.
Page 232 - I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair ; I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ; I will sit on the shore, where the hurricane blows, And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes ; I will weep for a season, on bitterness fed, For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ; But they died not by hunger, or lingering decay ; The steel of the white man hath swept them away.
Page 181 - So roaring, so vast, so terrible, the armies mixed On Lena's echoing heath. The groan of the people spread over the hills : It was like the thunder of night, When the cloud bursts on Cona; And a thousand ghosts shriek at once On the hollow wind.
Page 219 - And aside they stood — Matron and child and pitiless manhood, all Who met him on his way — and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, Crying,
Page 208 - tis ever thus ; when Hope has built a bower, Like that of Eden, wreathed about with every thornless flower, To dwell therein securely, the self-deceiver's trust, A whirlwind from the desert comes, and " all is in the dust." 'Tis ever thus — 'tis ever thus, that, when the poor heart clings, With all its finest tendrils, with all its flexile rings, That goodly thing it cleaveth to, so fondly and so fast, Is struck to earth by lightning, or shattered by the blast.
Page 376 - ... greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool ; to brag and stamp, and swear, Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ? And dost thou now fall over to my foes ? Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff" it for shame, And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.

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