Chorronessee: And Other TalesPrinted at the Journal Job Office, 1868 - 212 sider |
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Altaoni art thou Assamoosics beautiful beneath betray birds bless bliss bosom breast breath bright bright eye brother brow cheek chief Chorronessee cold day Watches dear death dream drooping dumb boy E'en e'er earth Egeria Esther face faith faithless fate feelings fell flowers fond fondly fortune-teller friendship gentle glance gloomy golden sun grave hand happy hath hope hour idolatry Indian Kate light lines of death little Esther lonely look lover maiden may'st mind mingled murmur ne'er never night Nottoway o'er ocean once Oulinda passion pity prayer princess Real Real's remember Rinaldo river Rowanty Sambo Sappony seemed silent sings sleep smile soft song sorrow soul Southall spirit sweet tears thee thine thou art thought throbs thy heart tribe Twill vainly voice watch wave weep wending wigwam wild words young youth
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Side 165 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Side 54 - Steady from morn till eve ; and I have seen The bees go forth upon an April morn, Secure the sunshine will not end in showers ; But when was Woman true...
Side 203 - And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep ; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep...
Side 11 - But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll ; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Side 163 - Bound to thy service with unceasing care, The mind's least generous wish a mendicant For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak — though this soft warm heart, once free to hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, Be left more desolate, more dreary cold Than a forsaken bird's-nest filled with snow 'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine — Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know ! TO BR HAYDON, ON SEEING HIS PICTURE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE ON THE ISLAND OF ST.
Side 85 - Of life: the hiding-places of man's power Open; I would approach them, but they close. I see by glimpses now; when age comes on, May scarcely see at all; and I would give, While yet we may, as far as words can give, Substance and life to what I feel, enshrining, Such is my hope, the spirit of the Past For future restoration.
Side 73 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, : Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Side 163 - Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air Of absence withers what was once so fair ? Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ? Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant, Bound to thy service with unceasing care— The mind's least generous wish a mendicant For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak !—though this soft warm heart, once free to hold A thousand tender...
Side 176 - I SIT in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream: why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on the hill; when the loud winds arise; my ghost shall stand in the blast, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall fear but love my voice!
Side 172 - My sister ! my sweet sister ! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine ; Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine : Go where I will, to me thou art the same — • A loved regret which I would not resign. There yet are two things in my destiny, — A world to roam through, and a home with thee.