The mountain prophet, the mine, and other poems

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Página 155 - I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain-side : By our own spirits are we deified : We poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
Página 7 - Maggot's cottage — and never in this world was a more flat and emphatic contradiction given to any statement, than that which was given to David Trevarrow's assertion — "There are none to weep if I was taken away." (A short but beautiful account of the above incident will be found in a little volume of poems, entitled Lays from the Mine, the Moor, and the Mountain, written by John Harris, a Cornish miner.) CHAPTER THIRTY Reveals some Astonishing Facts and their Consequences.
Página 88 - And when in after days the lash Was drinking her hot blood, And crushing her worn frame to earth, Because she pray'd to God ; The black maid's spirit bounded high On wings of silvery light, And join'd the throngs of Paradise In robes of purest white.
Página 56 - And there a crusher crash'd the copper ore. Here girls were cobbing under roofs of straw, And there were giggers at the oaken hutch. Here a man-engine...
Página 87 - And burring sighs roll up to heaven For vengeance on the slain. A colour'd maiden, free from guile, And gentle as the rain Which falls at leafy summer-time Upon the grassy plain, Came to her mistress sighing much ; Who blush'd not thus to rave : " A black maid with a face like yours Has not a soul to save.
Página 88 - Among the sugar-trees, A heavenly voice came on her ear, Borne by the passing breeze. And as it floated through her hair, And kiss'd the slave-dress'd sod, It...
Página 87 - Whose funeral-shadow falls upon The field of slavery. Down in a hollow where the roe Bounds wild from rock to rock, A stately mansion stands, where dwell A planter and his flock.
Página 56 - With pincers in his hand ; and troops of maids With heavy hammers brake the mineral stones. The cart-man cried, and shook his broken whip ; And on the steps of the account-house stood The active agent, with his eye on all.
Página 112 - A month was nearly ended, And he severe had wrought Day after day in darkness, And it was all for nought. The mineral- vein had faded, And now all hope was fled ; To-morrow should be pay-day, His children have no bread.

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