The Wagoner of the Alleghanies: A Poem of the Days of Seventy-sixJ.B. Lippincott & Company, 1863 - 276 pages |
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Page 14
... Poured from its breast of ample girth Some memory of April birth , To cheer the hearthstone of October . There , conscious of his place and worth , One lordly hound , with visage sober , Sheathed his large eyes in sleep's eclipse ...
... Poured from its breast of ample girth Some memory of April birth , To cheer the hearthstone of October . There , conscious of his place and worth , One lordly hound , with visage sober , Sheathed his large eyes in sleep's eclipse ...
Page 25
... to the house one child , and died . That child a maiden grown you see , With laughing eyes and tresses free , Which wellnigh mocked the painter's skill : It glows as if some morning beam Had poured here 3 THE ALLEGHANIES . 25.
... to the house one child , and died . That child a maiden grown you see , With laughing eyes and tresses free , Which wellnigh mocked the painter's skill : It glows as if some morning beam Had poured here 3 THE ALLEGHANIES . 25.
Page 26
... poured here in a golden stream , And , when the sun passed , lingered still . A year or two went by , and then His heart was vacant as his hall . No pleasure answered to his call , No joy was in the world of men : One passion only ...
... poured here in a golden stream , And , when the sun passed , lingered still . A year or two went by , and then His heart was vacant as his hall . No pleasure answered to his call , No joy was in the world of men : One passion only ...
Page 73
... Poured by a rough and sunburnt hand To nourish the souls of a rebel band . He heard the very wine's heart throb As it flowed from the flask with a sigh and a sob ; The bubbles that wept around each rim Looked with imploring eyes at him ...
... Poured by a rough and sunburnt hand To nourish the souls of a rebel band . He heard the very wine's heart throb As it flowed from the flask with a sigh and a sob ; The bubbles that wept around each rim Looked with imploring eyes at him ...
Page 85
... poured , with half - suspended breath , The lead into the moulds of death . The hands by Heaven made silken soft To soothe the brow of love or pain , Alas ! are dulled and soiled too oft By some unhallowed earthly stain ; But under the ...
... poured , with half - suspended breath , The lead into the moulds of death . The hands by Heaven made silken soft To soothe the brow of love or pain , Alas ! are dulled and soiled too oft By some unhallowed earthly stain ; But under the ...
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Common terms and phrases
abatis ALLEGHANIES banner beneath Berkley Hall Berkley's beside blade blood blow Brandywine brave breast breath bright Bright eyes brooklet brow bugles sound burst of joy cheek child cloud cried dared dashed door dropt Edgar esquires Esther eyes face falchion fear feet fierce fire flame flashing flowers flung flying Freedom's gazed glance glow golden hair hand harp hear heard heart Heaven hostler knew land laugh light lips looked loud loyal toast loyalist maid maiden midnight mighty hand night noble o'er pain pale patriot Perchance prest pride proud rebel rill Ringbolt rose round scarcely scene scorn seemed shade sigh sight sing Sir Hugh smile song soul sped splendor stare startled steed stirred stood strange stream sudden sweet sword thrill troop Twas twere Valley Forge vision voice wagoner wagoner's wild wind wine wing wondering word young
Popular passages
Page 266 - ... that, in the language of holy writ, there was a time for all things, a time to preach and a time to pray, but those times had passed away;" and in a voice that re-echoed through the church like a trumpet-blast, " that there was a time to fight, and that time had now come!
Page 87 - Mid little ones who weep or wonder, And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder, Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of death around him rattle, Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er Was poured upon the field of battle ! The mother who conceals her grief While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood...
Page 86 - THE maid who binds her warrior's sash With smile that well her pain dissembles, The while beneath her drooping lash One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, Though Heaven alone records the tear, And Fame, shall never know her story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As e'er bedewed the field of glory...
Page 89 - He spoke of wrongs too long endured, Of sacred rights to be secured; Then from his patriot tongue of flame The startling words for Freedom came. The stirring sentences he spake Compelled the heart to glow or quake, And, rising on his theme's broad...
Page 91 - God's temple is the house of peace! " The other shouted, " Nay, not so. When God is with our righteous cause; His holiest places then are ours, His temples are our forts and towers That frown upon the tyrant foe; In this, the dawn of Freedom's day, There is a time to fight and pray...
Page 90 - Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; Then swept his kindling glance of fire From startled pew to breathless choir; When suddenly his mantle wide, His hands impatient flung aside, And, lo! he met their wondering eyes Complete in all a warrior's guise. * A moment there was awful pause— When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor, cease! God's temple is the house of peace!
Page 91 - While overhead, with wild increase, Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, The great bell swung as ne'er before; It seemed as it would never cease; And every word its ardor flung From off its jubilant iron tongue Was, "War! War! War!
Page 270 - ... by deeds of arms, according to the laws of ancient chivalry." At the third repetition of the challenge the...
Page 87 - Within its shade of elm and oak The church of Berkley Manor stood ; There Sunday found the rural folk, And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet -with loitering tread Passed mid the graves where rank is naught ; All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead.
Page 88 - Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid, with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume; While every garment's gentle stir Is breathing rose and lavender.