Pemberton: Or, One Hundred Years Ago

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J. B. Lippincott & Company, 1873 - United States - 387 pages
 

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Page 86 - I would not call them Voices of warning that announce to us Only the inevitable. As the sun, Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events, And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
Page 82 - Until they won her ; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is the maiden passion for a maid, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and amiable words And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
Page 364 - Buoyed above the terror of death by the consciousness of a life devoted to honorable pursuits, and stained with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the request I make to your Excellency at this serious period, and which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected. Sympathy towards a soldier will surely induce your Excellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honor.
Page 344 - d be thy tongue For such a wish! he was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth.
Page 381 - O THOU, that sendest out the man To rule by land and sea, Strong mother of a Lion-line, Be proud of those strong sons of thine Who wrench'd their rights from thee...
Page 49 - Let the cork-cutter make her a rump. Thus finish'd in taste, while on Chloe you gaze, You may take the dear charmer for life ; But never undress her — for, out of her stays You'll find you have lost half your wife.* LXXVII.
Page 389 - Sacred to the memory of Major John Andre, who, raised by his merits at an early period of life to the rank of Adjutant General of the British forces in America, and employed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his king and country on the 2d of October, 1780, aged 29.
Page 48 - GIVE Chloe a bushel of horse-hair and wool, Of paste and pomatum a pound, Ten yards of gay ribbon to deck her sweet skull, And gauze to encompass it round. Of all the bright colours the rainbow displays Be those ribbons which hang on her head, Be her flounces adapted to make the folks gaze, And about the whole work be they spread. Let her flaps fly behind, for a yard at the least ; Let her curls meet just under her chin...

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