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American Literary Society, 1901
 

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Стр. 5176 - There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school ; A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew ; Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Стр. 5286 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own.
Стр. 5046 - And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the Nancy's men Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll. "There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, . And the crew of the captain's gig.
Стр. 5284 - The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Стр. 5172 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.
Стр. 5174 - O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreats from care that never must be mine, How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labor with an age of ease...
Стр. 5286 - Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Стр. 5288 - Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play ! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond to-day. Yet see how all around...
Стр. 5176 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven...
Стр. 5291 - Mighty victor, mighty lord ! Low on his funeral couch he lies ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies.

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