Pen and Ink Sketches of Poets, Preachers, and Politicians

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David Bogue, 1847 - Clergy - 286 pages
 

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Page 164 - So serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng ; So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they ; That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
Page 103 - Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit! rest thee now ! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! Soul, to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
Page 100 - Any thing abstract or scientific was unintelligible and distasteful to her ; her knowledge was extensive and various, but, true to the first principle of her nature, it was poetry that she sought in history, scenery, character, and religious belief,— poetry, that guided all her studies, governed all her thoughts, coloured all her conversation.
Page 166 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they With whom I converse night and day.
Page 98 - Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed, A crown for the brow of the early dead ! For this through its leaves hath the white rose burst.
Page 39 - Tis but a night, a long and moonless night ; We make the grave our bed, and then are gone. Thus, at the shut of even, the weary bird Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake Cowers down, and dozes till the dawn of day; Then claps his well-fledged wings, and bears away.
Page 101 - Golden lamps hid in a night of green,' or of those Spanish gardens where the pomegranate grows beside the cypress. Her gladness was like a burst of sunlight ; and if in her depression she resembled night, it was night wearing her stars.
Page 96 - ... beauty of her expression. Her glossy waving hair was parted on her forehead, and terminated, on the sides, in rich and luxuriant auburn curls ; there was a dove-like look in her eyes, and yet there was a chastened sadness in their expression. Her complexion was remarkably clear, and her high forehead looked as pure and spotless as Parian marble. A calm repose, not unmingled with melancholy, was the characteristic expression of the face ; but when she smiled, all traces of sorrow were lost, and...
Page 241 - Quashee is not dying of such despair as the yellow-coloured pale man's. Quashee, it must be owned, is hitherto a kind of blockhead. The Haiti Duke of Marmalade, educated now for almost half a century, seems to have next to no sense in him. Why, in one of those Lancashire Weavers, dying of hunger, there is more thought and heart, a greater arithmetical amount of misery and desperation, than in whole gangs of Quashees.
Page 21 - After the exordium, he would commonly hint at, rather than explicitly announce, the very simple divisions of the subject on which he intended to treat. Then his thoughts would begin to multiply, and the rapidity of his utterance, always considerable, would increase as he proceeded and kindled — evidently urged on by the momentum of his conceptions. He had no oratorical action, scarcely any kind of motion, excepting an occasional lifting or waving of the right hand; and in his most impassioned moments,...

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