Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands, Volumen1
Phillips, Sampson,, 1854 - 296 páginas
And now, what am I to do? The Times seems to think that, in order to be consistent, I ought to take up the conflict immediately; but, for my part, I think otherwise. What an unreasonable creature! Does he suppose me so lost to all due sense of humility as to take out of his hands a cause which he is pleading so well? If the plantation slaves had such a good friend as the Times, and if every over-worked female cotton picker could write as clever letters as this dressmaker's apprentice, and get them published in as influential papers, and excite as general a sensation by them as this seems to have done, I think I should feel that there was no need of my interfering in a work so much better done.
Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
America appeared beautiful believe brought building called carriage castle cause cheers Christian church classes comfort coming course door effect England English expressed eyes face fact feel felt flowers friends gave give given green grounds hall hands head hear heard heart hope human hundred idea interest kind labor ladies land leaves letters light lines living look Lord manner meeting mind nature never once opened party passed person picture poet poor present Quaker received remarkable ruins Scotch Scotland Scott seemed seen showed side slave slavery society soul speak spirit standing stone suppose thing thought thousand tion told town trees United walked walls whole young
Página 180 - And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St. Clair.
Página 199 - Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.
Página 129 - CALL it not vain ¡—they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of balm distil ; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Página 44 - And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim with daisies <pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide : Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Página 72 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Página 209 - The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer, nay...
Página liv - The power of the master must be absolute, to render the submission of the slave perfect.
Página 140 - And for evermore that lady wore A covering on her wrist. There is a nun in Dryburgh bower, Ne'er looks upon the sun ; There is a monk in Melrose tower, He speaketh word to none. That nun, who ne'er beholds the day, That monk, who speaks to none — That nun was Smaylho'me's Lady gay, That monk the bold Baron.