The American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review, Volume 1H. Biglow, Orville Luther Holley H. Bigelow, Esq., editor and proprietor, 1817 - American literature |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page 4
... head of a new school ; and the Stagirite never had more disciples . The votaries of the system , of which Lord Byron was English Bards and Scotch Reviewers , ' the propagator , have ravaged every re- afforded him , at once , the ...
... head of a new school ; and the Stagirite never had more disciples . The votaries of the system , of which Lord Byron was English Bards and Scotch Reviewers , ' the propagator , have ravaged every re- afforded him , at once , the ...
Page 25
... head of snow ; See at his foot , the cool Cephissus flow ; There Ossa rises ; there Olympus towers ; Between them , Tempe breathes in beds of flowers , Forever verdant ; and there Peneus glides Through laurels whispering on his shady ...
... head of snow ; See at his foot , the cool Cephissus flow ; There Ossa rises ; there Olympus towers ; Between them , Tempe breathes in beds of flowers , Forever verdant ; and there Peneus glides Through laurels whispering on his shady ...
Page 27
... head . On his accession , to the office army , as chaplain , in the brigade of of tutor , in 1771 , he entered into , and General Parsons , and division of Ge- seconded them , with his whole heart ; Trumbull , Humphreys , and others ...
... head . On his accession , to the office army , as chaplain , in the brigade of of tutor , in 1771 , he entered into , and General Parsons , and division of Ge- seconded them , with his whole heart ; Trumbull , Humphreys , and others ...
Page 33
... head , and a degree of of ideas ; he remarked on an error in stupor , which proved to be the final tri- the translation - and on the views of umph of his terrible internal enemy . Clarke and Waterland , and other For two days , although ...
... head , and a degree of of ideas ; he remarked on an error in stupor , which proved to be the final tri- the translation - and on the views of umph of his terrible internal enemy . Clarke and Waterland , and other For two days , although ...
Page 38
... head , pointing up , and strung with curiosity ; and his description of Tom- different kinds of ornaments ; his feet buctoo agrees in substance with that are covered with red Morocco shoes : given by several Moors , ( Fez mer- he has no ...
... head , pointing up , and strung with curiosity ; and his description of Tom- different kinds of ornaments ; his feet buctoo agrees in substance with that are covered with red Morocco shoes : given by several Moors , ( Fez mer- he has no ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
aged American animals appears April beautiful Bible Society Bonaparte Boston British called canal Capt Captain character colour commenced coun Court death disease dollars effect England English exhibited eyes favour feet France French Genesee river genus give heart Hessian Fly honour hope interest James John King Lady Lake Lake Erie land late letter Lord Lord Byron March memoir ment miles mind mineralogy miss Elizabeth Mitchill nature neral never New-York New-York Historical Society object observed officers patriots persons Phedimus Philadelphia picture plants poem present President Prince published racter Rafinesque reader received remarks river Russia Samuel Schoharie creek Seneca river ship species specimen spirit stamens style thee Thomas thou tion ture United vessels whole Yale College
Popular passages
Page 10 - At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 296 - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Page 296 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 296 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 296 - Oh ! when a Mother meets on high The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight...
Page 349 - Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine ; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger ; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who but of her anon.
Page 9 - 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!
Page 296 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 349 - Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn winds were at their evening song. These were my pastimes, and to be alone ; For if the beings, of whom I was one, — Hating to be so, — cross'd me in my path, I felt myself degraded back to them, And was all clay again.
Page 422 - I stoop not to despair; For I have battled with mine agony, And made me wings wherewith to overfly The narrow circus of my dungeon wall...