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Strona 164 - Or stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, And from the palm to draw its freshening wine ! More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours.
Strona 283 - Thy fame is just, the sage replies ; Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. Pride often guides the author's pen ; Books as affected are as men : But he who studies nature's laws, From certain truth his maxims draws ; And those, without our schools, suffice To make men moral, good, and wise.
Strona 52 - His spear, — to equal which, the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand...
Strona 35 - Well — I then took my course up to the windmill on the mount. I climbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view of the country round. What an extensive prospect ! I counted fifteen church-steeples ; and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out from the midst of green woods and plantations ; and I could trace the windings of the river all along the low grounds, till it was lost behind a ridge of hills.
Strona 37 - I followed this little brook till it entered the river, and then took the path that runs along the bank. On the opposite side, I observed several little birds running along the shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and white, and about as big as a snipe.
Strona 177 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight...
Strona 38 - I was looking at him, a heron came flying over my head, with his large flapping wings. He alighted at the next turn of the river, and I crept softly behind the bank to watch his motions. He had waded into the water as far as his long legs would carry him, and was standing with his neck drawn in, looking intently on the stream. Presently he darted his long bill as quick as lightning into the water, and drew out a fish, which he swallowed. I saw him catch another in the tame manner.
Strona 204 - I've held my way, A lonely unprotected stranger, To all the stranger's ills a prey. While steering thus my course precarious, My fortune still has been to find Men's hearts and dispositions various, But gentle Woman ever kind. Alive to every tender feeling, To deeds of mercy ever prone ; The wounds of pain and sorrow healing, With soft compassion's sweetest tone. No proud delay, no dark suspicion, Stints the free bounty of their heart ; They turn not from the sad petition, But cheerful aid at once...
Strona 39 - ... from the ground, as thick as a swarm of bees, and formed themselves into a kind of black cloud, hovering over the field. After taking a short round, they settled again, and presently rose again in the same manner.