Daniel Webster in England: Journal of Harriette Story Paige, 1839

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Houghton Mifflin, 1917 - Electronic book - 370 pages
 

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Page 126 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 26 - Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile. Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Page 128 - Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banished lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, 55 Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
Page 282 - Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ; Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
Page 118 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; And there he blasts the tree...
Page 169 - Of mighty Shakespeare's birth, the room, we see; That, where he died, in vain to find we try; Useless the search — for all immortal he — And those, who are immortal, never die.
Page 178 - Even from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; Bid them in Duty's sphere as meekly move; And if so fair, from vanity as free; As firm in friendship, and as fond in love. Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die ('Twas even to thee), yet the dread path once trod, Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, And bids ' the pure in heart behold their God.
Page 177 - Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear : Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave. To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form : she bow'd to taste the wave, And died. Does Youth, does Beauty read the line ? Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm ? Speak, dead Maria ! breathe a strain divine...
Page 39 - twere, anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Page 178 - Ev'n from the grave thou shall have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee ; Bid them in Duty's sphere as meekly move ; And if so fair, from vanity as free ; As firm in friendship, and as fond in love. Tell them...

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