The Tourist: A Literary and Anti-slavery Journal, Volym 1

Framsida
J. Crisp, 1833

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Sida 237 - With mazy error under pendent shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art In beds and curious knots, but nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Imbrown'd the noontide bowers. Thus was this place A happy rural seat of various view...
Sida 239 - FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
Sida 128 - TO BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last.
Sida 290 - and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Daci.an mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday! — All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire And unavenged? — Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Sida 66 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Sida 215 - Thus the ideas, as well as children, of our youth, often die before us: and our minds represent to us those tombs to which we are approaching; where, though the brass and marble remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery moulders away.
Sida 239 - We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead...
Sida 239 - Hark, how the strings awake ! And, though the moving hand approach not near, Themselves with awful fear A kind of numerous trembling make.
Sida 31 - The earth was at first without form, and void ; and darkness was on the face of the deep.
Sida 246 - Archangel: but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate* pride Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion...

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