A Peep at the Pilgrims in Sixteen Hundred Thirty-six: A Tale of Olden TimesPhillips, Sampson, 1850 - 463 σελίδες |
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approaching asked Atherton believe Benjamin Ashly boat Calvert Captain Mason Captain Standish captives church colony companion constable countenance cousin Atherton Cushminaw damsel Dutch duty endeavored England English entered erton excited eyes father favor fear feelings felt friends Governor Haarman hand happy heard heart Hobamock honor hope inclined Indians land leave listened Lois Grey look maidens Major Atherton Massachusetts Master Ashly Master Constable Master Peregrine ment mind mingled Mioma Miriam Grey Mistress Gilbert Mononotto Narragansets native never New-England numbers observed passed Pequods Peregrine White perhaps pinnace pleasure Plymouth Puritans regard render replied Atherton replied Miriam replied the Captain returned Atherton returned Peregrine sachem safety Sassacus savage scarcely scene seemed shore silence smile soon speak spirit stood surprise thing thought tion trees turned Van Haarman vessel voice voyage walk warriors waves Weldon wigwam wind Winslow Winthrop wish young youth
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 240 - Who hath woe ? who hath sorrow ? who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? They that tarry long at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed wine.
Σελίδα 317 - I must admire thee more for so denying, Than I had dared if thou hadst fondly granted. Thou dost devote thyself to utterest peril, And me to deepest anguish ; yet even now Thou art lovelier to me in thy cold severity, Flying me, leaving me without a joy, Without a hope on earth, without thyself; Thou art lovelier now than if thy yielding soul Had smiled on me a passionate consent. Go ! for I see thy parting homeward look, Go in thy beauty ! like a setting star, The last in all the thick and moonless...
Σελίδα 240 - They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright: at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Σελίδα 101 - The world is also stablished, that it cannot depart. 2 Thy throne is fix'd of old, and thou from everlasting art. 3 The floods, O Lord, have lifted up, they lifted up their voice ; The floods have lifted up their waves, and made a mighty noise. 4 But yet the Lord, that is on high, is more of might by far Than noise of many waters is, or great sea-billows are.
Σελίδα 98 - Of tempests, and the dangers of the deep, And pause at times, and feel that we are safe ; Then listen to the perilous tale again, And, with an eager and suspended soul, Woo terror to delight us. But to hear The roaring of the raging elements ; To know all human skill, all human strength, Avail...
Σελίδα 314 - Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to return from following after thee ; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God : where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried.
Σελίδα 439 - Indulge, my native land! indulge the tear, That steals, impassion'd, o'er a nation's doom: To me each twig, from Adam's stock, is near, And sorrows fall upon an Indian's tomb.
Σελίδα 203 - French tongue he could also manage ; the Latin and the Greek he had mastered ; but the Hebrew he most of all studied, because, he said, he would see with his own eyes the ancient oracles of God in their native beauty.
Σελίδα 214 - O why should fate sic pleasure have, Life's dearest bands untwining ? Or why sae sweet a flower as love Depend on Fortune's shining ? This warld's wealth when I think on, Its pride, and a' the lave o't ; Fie, fie on silly coward man, That he should be the slave o't.
Σελίδα 66 - Her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot: An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, — The overflowings of an innocent heart, — It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody.