My Journal in Malayan Waters, Or, The Blockade of Quedah

Routledge, Warne, and Routledge, 1861 - 360 Seiten

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Seite 295 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun, at noon, Eight up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Seite 279 - WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow'd back with me, The forward-flowing tide of time ; And many a sheeny summer-morn, Adown the Tigris I was borne, By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold, High-walled gardens green and old ; True Mussulman was I and sworn, For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid.
Seite 51 - ... October, 1815. It will be remembered that her husband embarked for India the year before. Thus a critic of the time spake with more wisdom than he was aware of, when he wrote the following sentence as to her Rosalind. "Of her figure it would be unjust at present to speak. She appears to be far advanced in that state in which ladies wish to be who love their lords.
Seite i - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Seite 322 - From life's thronged path, unnoticed to expire. As the light leaf, whose fall to ruin bears Some trembling insect's little world of cares, Descends in silence — while around waves on The mighty forest, reckless what is gone...
Seite 259 - ... seen climbing the mangrove branches, and dashing: from thence into the water with all the life and energy of children of a colder clime, at once affording us proof that even they have their joys.

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