Eighteen Months on a Greenland Whaler

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The author, 1878 - 307 páginas
An account of the author's whaling voyage aboard the schooner Franklin of New London, in 1867 or 1869, and an expansion of his account of the same voyage recounted in his Three Years on a Whaler (Bath, N.Y., 1875). The Franklin wintered over in Cumberland Inlet, and there is a good account of the Eskimos, as well as a good description of whaling.

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Página 306 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Página 102 - There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Página 311 - They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters ; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.
Página 197 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Página 247 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man.
Página 312 - When the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be, When the devil was well, the devil a monk was he.
Página 153 - He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. He maketh a path to shine after him ; one would think the deep to be hoary.
Página 176 - But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever ! XVII.
Página 133 - The wood was sere, the moon i' the wane, The reek o' the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane ; When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin...
Página 305 - There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!

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