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Side 380 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Side 380 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned. At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere. Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land. Though the dark night is near.
Side 381 - Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
Side 200 - ... the old familiar faces. Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood, Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces.
Side 83 - Full twenty miles from town their voyage take, Obscure in rushes of the liquid lake. The geese fly o'er the barn; the bees in arms Drive headlong from their waxen cells in swarms. Jack Straw at London-stone, with all his rout, Struck not the city with so loud a shout...
Side 259 - ... corded silk plush, made to button over the calf of the leg, with sixteen strings, and rosettes to each knee ; the boots very short, and finished with very broad straps, which...
Side 384 - By David Low, Esq., FRSE, Professor of Agriculture in the University of Edinburgh, etc.; author of "Elements of Practical Agriculture, "etc.
Side 256 - Here, when they have come to town, they must presently be in the mode, get fine clothes, go to plays and treats, and by these means get such a habit of idleness and love of pleasure, that they are uneasy ever after.
Side 37 - Here, with my rifle and my steed, And her who left the world for me, I plant me, where the red deer feed In the green desert — and am free.
Side 146 - ... wrapped in their warm blankets, these old hunters became talkative, and related their individual adventures for the general amusement. The best story was one told by Richardson of a meeting he once had with three Blackfeet Indians. He had been out alone hunting buffalo, and towards the end of the day was returning to the camp with his meat, when he heard the clattering of hoofs in the rear, and upon looking back, observed three Indians in hot pursuit of him. To lighten his horse, he immediately...