The Republic: A Monthly Magazine of American Literature, Politics & Art, Volúmenes1-2

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Página 109 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Página 77 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Página 107 - Try not the pass!" the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior ! "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!
Página 218 - THERE is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground.
Página 107 - Good-night, A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior...
Página 118 - The Pauper's Deathbed. Tread softly — bow the head — In reverent silence bow — No passing bell doth toll — Yet an immortal soul Is passing now. Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence bow ; There's one in that poor shed One by that paltry bed — Greater than thou.
Página 78 - Tis of the wave and not the rock; Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Página 77 - COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies! Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold, While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time, Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name, Be freedom and science and virtue thy fame.
Página 153 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Página 216 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see; They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.

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