Writings of Charles Sprague: Now First Collected

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C. S. Francis, 1843 - 182 Seiten

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Seite 117 - Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace.
Seite 35 - Who rose to bless their kind — Who left their nation and their age, Man's spirit to unbind ? Who boundless seas passed o'er, And boldly met, in every path, Famine, and frost, and heathen wrath...
Seite 118 - Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people.
Seite 34 - In grateful adoration now, Upon the barren sands they bow. What tongue of joy e'er woke such prayer, As bursts in desolation there? What arm of strength e'er wrought such power, As waits to crown that feeble hour?
Seite 50 - True Stories from Ancient History, Chronologically arranged from the Creation of the World to the Death of Charlemagne. 13th Edition. 24 Steel Engravings. 12mo., 5s. cloth. True Stories from Modern History, From the Death of Charlemagne to the present Time Eighth Edition.
Seite 60 - We are all here ! Even they — the dead — though dead, so dear. Fond Memory, to her duty true, Brings back their faded forms to view. How life-like, through the mist of years, Each well-remembered face appears ! We see them as in times long past ; From each to each kind...
Seite 117 - God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around. He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirlwinds...
Seite 41 - Alas ! for them — their day is o'er. Their fires are out from hill and shore; No more for them the wild deer bounds, The plough is on their hunting grounds; The pale man's axe rings through their woods, The pale man's sail skims o'er their floods, Their pleasant springs are dry ; Their children — look, by power oppressed, Beyond the mountains of the west, Their children go -— to die.
Seite 100 - To the sages who spoke, to the heroes who bled, To the day and the deed, strike the harp-strings of glory ! Let the song of the ransomed remember the dead, And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story ! O'er the bones of the bold Be that story long told, And on Fame's golden tablets their triumphs enrolled, Who on Freedom's green hills Freedom's banner unfurled, And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world!
Seite 118 - ... from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, untamable progenitors. The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad...

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