The Poetical Works of Horace Smith, One of the Authors of "Rejected Addresses".

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H. Colburn, 1846 - 240 páginas

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Página 13 - Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, A torch at the great temple's dedication. I need not ask thee if that hand, when...
Página 14 - What was thy name and station, age and race ? Statue of flesh, immortal of the dead ! • Imperishable type of evanescence, Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence : Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.
Página 146 - Has been felt beneath tbe wave, By the dormouse in its cell, And the mole within its cave ; And the summer tribes that creep, Or in air expand their wing, Have started from their sleep, At the summons of the Spring. The cattle lift their voices From the valleys and the hills, And the...
Página 14 - Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,— O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis ; And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder...
Página 8 - Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer.
Página 12 - Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either pyramid that bears his name ? Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer...
Página 11 - MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHIBITION. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story .') In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous...
Página 13 - Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ; The Roman empire has begun and ended, New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been...
Página 9 - Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky. There, as in solitude and shade I wander Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, Awed by the silence, reverently ponder The ways of God, Your voiceless lips, 0 flowers ! are living preachers, Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook. Floral apostles ! that in dewy splendor "Weep without woe, and blush without a crime," 0, may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender...
Página 64 - Perhaps to warm a distant line, Thy face, my lineaments shall show, And e'en my thoughts survive in thine. Yes, Daughter, when this tongue is mute, This heart is dust — these eyes are closed, And thou art singing to thy lute Some stanza by thy Sire composed. To friends around thou may'st impart A thought of him who wrote the lays, And from the grave my form shall start, Embodied forth to fancy's gaze. Then to their memories will throng Scenes shared with him who lies in earth. The cheerful page,...

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