 | 1860
...has trodden the crowded streets of the Chinese city, and trembled with a nameless awe — ..... " iu the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." He has mused over the ruins of the ancient world ; temples, palaces, theatres, hippodromes, he has... | |
 | 1844
...country, and with the force of some long pent-up river, it is flowing from the Atlantic coast, to ' The continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashing.' But the greater its prosperity the greater is the necessity of watchful care, of conforming... | |
 | C. P. Bronson - 1845 - 320 Seiten
...shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, arc but a handful!, to the tribes, That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Bar can desert pierce, Or, lose thyself in the continuous woods, Where rolls the Oregon, and hears... | |
 | C. P. Bronson - 1845 - 384 Seiten
...but a Imnflfull, 10 the tribes. That slumber in its bosom. Take the wing* Of morning, and the Barcau desert pierce, Or, lose thyself in the continuous...woods, Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save its own dashing* — yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since Grst The night... | |
 | C. P. Bronson - 1845 - 368 Seiten
...golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shilling on Ihe sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful!, to Ihe Iribcs, Thai slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or,... | |
 | C. P. Bronson - 1845 - 320 Seiten
...The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handfull, to the tribes, That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert... | |
 | C. P. Bronson - 1845 - 384 Seiten
...plaiu-'-s, all ihe infinite host of heaven, Are sinning on the *ad abodes of death, Through the st.ll lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful!, lo the tribes, That glumli'^r in ita bo.vun. Take the wingi Of morning, and the Bar can desert pierce,... | |
 | George Vanderhoff - 1846 - 383 Seiten
...golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe...woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save of his own dashings ; yet, — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The... | |
 | Travers Twiss - 1846 - 288 Seiten
...Mr. Washington Irving has pronounced to be amongst the most distinguished of American poets : — " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,...Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." If we adopt the more extensive use of the term Oregon territory, as applied to the entire country intermediate... | |
 | George Vandenhoff - 1847 - 383 Seiten
...golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe...woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save of his own dashings ; yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The... | |
| |
That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of... 
