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From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Roll down their golden sand. Missionary Hymn. .
Lines written to a March.
WASHINGTON IRVING. 1783-1859.
Free-livers on a small scale, who are prodigal within the compass of a guinea.
The Stout Gentleman. The almighty dollar,' that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages. The Creole Village.
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !)
Abou Ben Adhem.
Politics and Poetics.
The Story of Rimini.
1 See Jonson, page 178.
WOODWORTH. — CUNNINGHAM. - NAPIER.
SAMUEL WOODWORTH. 1785–1842.
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
The Old Oaken Bucket. Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well. Ibid. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. Ibid.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 1785-1842.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And bends the gallant mast.
While like the eagle free
A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.
Poet's Bridal-day Song.
SIR W. F. P. NAPIER. 1785–1860.
Napoleon's troops fought in bright fields, where every helmet caught some gleams of glory; but the British soldier conquered under the cool shade of aristocracy. No honours awaited his daring, no despatch gave his name to the applauses of his countrymen; his life of danger and hardship was uncheered by hope, his death unnoticed.
Peninsular War (1810). Vol. ii. Book zi. Chop. iii.
JOHN PIERPONT. 1785–1866.
that comes down as still
As lightning does the will of God;
A Word from a Petitioner.
From every place below the skies
The grateful song, the fervent prayer, —
Every Place a Temple.
BRYAN W. PROCTER. 1787.-1874.
The sea! the sea! the open sea !
I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea !
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
Touch us gently, Time!?
Let us glide adown thy stream
Touch us gently, Time.
i See Cotton, page 362.
2 See Crabbe, page 415.
LORD BYRON. 1788–1824.
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal avail'd on high,
Farewell! if erer fondest Prayer.
In silence and tears,
When we Two parted. Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 6. 'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
Line 51. With just enough of learning to misquote.
Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
1 See Waller, pages 219-220.
Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 839.
Maid of Athens. Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. stanza 5. If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
Stanza 7. Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
Stanza 9. Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
Stanza 10. Might shake the saintship of an anchorite. Stanza 11. Adieu ! adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue.
Stanza 13. My native land, good night!
Ibid. O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.
Stanza 15. In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
Stanza 20. By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there. Stanza 40. Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o’er the flowers its bubbling venom flings."
Stanza 82. 1 Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat (In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers). - LUCRETIUS: iv. 1133.