Letters to a Child: On the Subject of Maritime Discovery

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Samuel Wood & Sons, No. 261, Pearl-Street, 1821 - Didactic fiction - 322 pages
 

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Page 149 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 67 - Twas the hour of day When setting suns o'er summer seas display A path of glory opening in the west To golden climes and islands of the blest; And human voices, on the silent air, Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there...
Page 260 - ... Spaniards are said to have killed on that day, four thousand of the natives of Peru! The captive Inca, as soon as he had recovered a little from the deep distress into which he was plunged at finding himself a prisoner, began to think how he could regain his liberty ; and soon observing the Spaniard's thirst for gold, he offered an immense ransom for his freedom. He undertook to fill the apartment in which he was confined, which was twenty-two feet in length, and sixteen in breadth, with vessels...
Page 210 - ... marching two and two, in deep silence, barefooted, with their eyes fixed on the ground. These were followed by a company of higher rank, in their most showy apparel, in the midst of whom was Montezuma, in a chair or litter richly ornamented with gold, and feathers of various colours. Four of his principal favourites carried him on their shoulders, others supported a canopy of curious workmanship over his head.
Page 67 - There — in the west! and now, alas, 'tis gone! — 'Twas all a dream ! we gaze and gaze in vain ! — But mark and speak not, there it comes again ! It moves! — what form unseen, what being there With torch-like lustre fires the murky air ? His instincts, passions, say how like our own ? Oh ! when will day reveal a world unknown ?
Page 67 - There — in the west ! and now, alas, 'tis gone ! — 'Twas all a dream ! we gaze and gaze in vain ! But mark and speak not, there it comes again ! It moves ! — what form unseen, what being there With torch-like lustre fires the murky air ? His instincts, passions, say, how like our own ! Oh, when will day reveal a world unknown...

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