Builders of DemocracyEdwin Almiron Greenlaw Scott, Foresman and compay, 1918 - 339 |
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Strona 217 - If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable — and let it come ! I repeat it, sir, let it come ! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace, — but there is no peace.
Strona 115 - Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Strona 185 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Strona 191 - Our toils obscure, and a* that, The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin grey, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a
Strona 116 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks : The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Strona 256 - DEAR MADAM : I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming.
Strona 228 - Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave off as I began, that live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration.
Strona 11 - Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Ea'ch dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Strona 24 - Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave...
Strona 116 - That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.