hide Matching Documents

The documents where this entity occurs most often are shown below. Click on a document to open it.

Document Max. Freq Min. Freq
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 13 1 Browse Search
James Buchanan, Buchanan's administration on the eve of the rebellion 6 6 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 4 4 2 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 2 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 2 0 Browse Search
Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 4 2 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, John Greenleaf Whittier 2 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life 2 0 Browse Search
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches 2 0 Browse Search
View all matching documents...

Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for Canning or search for Canning in all documents.

Your search returned 1 result in 1 document section:

The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Personal Poems (search)
e mound which marks thy bed Might bless our land and save, As rose, of old, to life the dead Who touched the prophet's grave! 1854. To Charles Sumner. if I have seemed more prompt to censure wrong Than praise the right; if seldom to thine ear My voice hath mingled with the exultant cheer Borne upon all our Northern winds along; If I have failed to join the fickle throng In wide-eyed wonder, that thou standest strong In victory, surprised in thee to find Brougham's scathing power with Canning's grace combined; That he, for whom the ninefold Muses sang, From their twined arms a giant athlete sprang, Barbing the arrows of his native tongue With the spent shafts Latona's archer flung, To smite the Python of our land and time, Fell as the monster born of Crissa's slime, Like the blind bard who in Castalian springs Tempered the steel that clove the crest of kings, And on the shrine of England's freedom laid The gifts of Cumae and of Delphi's shade,— Small need hast thou of words of p