Atheneum, Or, Spirit of the English Magazines, Band 1

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Munroe and Francis, 1817
 

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Seite 117 - Twas still some solace, in the dearth Of the pure elements of earth. To hearken to each other's speech, And each turn comforter to each With some new hope, or legend old, Or song heroically bold ; But even these at length grew cold. Our voices took a dreary tone, An echo of the dungeon-stone, A grating sound— not full and free As they of yore were wont to be: It might be fancy — but to me They never sounded like our own...
Seite 195 - But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing Of gentle breath and hue.
Seite 405 - The rapid progress true science now makes, occasions my regretting sometimes that I was born so soon. It is impossible to imagine the height to which may be carried, in a thousand years, the power of man over matter.
Seite 117 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave. Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay, We heard it ripple night and day; Sounding o'er our heads it...
Seite 119 - The last — the sole — the dearest link Between me and the eternal brink, Which bound me to my failing race, Was broken in this fatal place.
Seite 235 - And though the number of them be perhaps double to what it was formerly, by reason of this present great distress, yet in all times there have been about one hundred thousand of those vagabonds, who have lived without any regard or subjection either to the laws of the land, or even those of God and nature ; fathers incestuously accompanying with their own daughters, the son with the mother, and the brother with the sister.
Seite 117 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain, With marks that will not wear away...
Seite 445 - The Poetic Genius of my Country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha — at the PLOUGH, and threw her inspiring mantle over me.
Seite 117 - Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls, A thousand feet in depth below, Its massy waters meet and flow; Thus much the fathom-line was sent...
Seite 195 - Returning where my walk begun, Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers' graves without a sod; For if I thought with heedless tread My step profaned their lowly bed, My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart fell blind and sick.

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