The North American Review, Volume 20

Voorkant
Jared Sparks, Edward Everett, James Russell Lowell, Henry Cabot Lodge
O. Everett, 1825
Vols. 227-230, no. 2 include: Stuff and nonsense, v. 5-6, no. 8, Jan. 1929-Aug. 1930.
 

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Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen

Populaire passages

Pagina 43 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Pagina 31 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals — The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Pagina 37 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Pagina 31 - His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And sendst him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling to his gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay.
Pagina 37 - Must w but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae.
Pagina 29 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! let joy be unconfined: No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. But hark that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! arm! it is — it is the cannon's opening roar!
Pagina 29 - There was a sound of revelry by night And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell ; But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Pagina 38 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave, — Think ye he meant them for a slave?
Pagina 31 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes : By the deep sea, and music in its roar : I love not Man the less but nature more.
Pagina 32 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime...

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