The Emigrant: A Tale of Australia

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Simmonds, 1847 - Australia - 228 pages
 

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Page 6 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd 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...
Page 25 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Page 134 - The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, — And glowing into day...
Page 140 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade ! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 31 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Page 4 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made ;w But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Page 51 - It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, 'Tis nothing that I loved so well.
Page 87 - How calm, how beautiful comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone ; When warring winds have died away, And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, Melt off, and leave the land and sea Sleeping in bright tranquillity...
Page 174 - The billows heave ! one glowing green expanse, Save where along the bending line of shore Such hue is thrown, as when the peacock's neck Assumes its proudest tint of amethyst, Embathed in emerald glory.
Page 108 - I shall conclude my remarks on his part with that poetical complaint of his being in love, and leave my reader to consider how prettily it would sound in the mouth of an emperor of Morocco. The god of love once more has shot his fires Into my soul, and my whole

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