Dial of the Seasons: Or A Portraiture of Nature ...

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Carey & Hart, 1845 - 217 Seiten
 

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Seite 142 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Seite 60 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given.
Seite 121 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Seite 84 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!
Seite 150 - The bell strikes One. We take no note of time But from its loss: to give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they ? With the years beyond the flood.
Seite 111 - Steel. Hail, adamantine steel! magnetic lord, King of the prow, the ploughshare, and the sword!
Seite 111 - Braves with broad sail the immeasurable sea, Cleaves the dark air, and asks no star but thee. — By thee the ploughshare rends the matted plain, Inhumes in level rows the living grain ; Intrusive forests quit the cultured ground, And Ceres laughs, with golden fillets crown'd. — O'er restless realms when scowling Discord flings Her snakes, and loud the din of battle rings, Expiring Strength and vanquish'd Courage feel Thy arm resistless, adamantine Steel !
Seite 161 - The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds has come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land ; The fig-tree putteth forth her green leaves, And the vines with the tender grape perfume the air.
Seite 87 - In their lowest servitude and depression, the subjects of the Byzantine throne were still possessed of a golden key that could unlock the treasures of antiquity ; of a musical and prolific language, that gives a soul to the objects of sense, and a body to the abstractions of philosophy.
Seite 174 - The universal cause Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.

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