The Controversy Touching the Old Stone Mill, in the Town of Newport, Rhode-Island: With Remarks, Introductory and Conclusive, Band 2,Ausgaben 1-2
C. E. Hammett, jr., 1851 - 91 Seiten
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
acres aforesaid ages ancient Antiquarian appears appoint architectural assigns behoof belonging Benedict Arnold bounded Brown building built called century close College Colony communication confidence containing Copenhagen daughter decease England erected Europe evidence excavation exist facts followeth forever foundation give and bequeath given hand heirs highway hundred Indians inhabitants Item John known land late length less lying mother named natural neck Newport Northmen object Old Mill Old Ruin Old Stone Mill oldest inhabitant Oliver once opinion origin parcell partly Pelham period possession present probably Professor Scrobein proper prove Providence published referred remain respective Rhode Island Rock round Royal Royal Society seen Society stands street structure supposed thereof tion Tower Town tract tradition truth unto visited West wife Wind Mill ye East ye North ye possession ye premises ye South ye West
Seite 7 - Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me ? " Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December ; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee ! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's...
Seite 9 - Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us ; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, 'Death !' was the helmsman's hail, 'Death without quarter!
Seite 10 - As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt, With his prey laden, So toward the open main, Beating to sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, Stands looking seaward.
Seite 10 - There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes, Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another!
Seite 8 - I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid, And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted.
Seite 8 - While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn, Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam lightly.
Seite 8 - Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow ; Oft through the forest dark Followed the werewolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. " But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders.
Seite 10 - Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another! "Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful!
Seite 9 - She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded ! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-mew's flight, Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded...
Seite 8 - But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders. "Many a wassail-bout Wore the long Winter out ; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail Filled to o'erflowing.