The Letters of the British Spy

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Harper & brothers, 1841 - Virginia - 260 pages

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Page 229 - Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes...
Page 202 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood (Loose his beard and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air); And, with a master's hand and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 208 - This grew speedily to an excess ; for men began to hunt more after words than matter, and more after the choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the sentence, and the sweet falling of the clauses, and the varying and illustration of their works with tropes and figures, than after the weight of matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth of judgment.
Page 195 - Devotion alone should have stopped me, to join in the duties of the congregation; but I must confess that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness was not the least of my motives.
Page 228 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire, Hands that the rod of empire might have...
Page 198 - It was some time before the tumult had subsided so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual but fallacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive how he would be able to let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them without impairing the solemnity, and dignity of the subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abruptness of his fall.
Page 228 - 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 198 - Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' — the voice of the preacher, which had all along faltered, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect is inconceivable.
Page 75 - ... with objects of science and taste, so classed and arranged as to produce their finest effect. On one side, specimens of sculpture set out, in such order, as to exhibit at a coup...
Page 85 - ... we find her shivering at midnight on the winter banks of the Ohio and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell.

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