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Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays, Literature as an art. (search)
s are purified by persecution, and materialized by peace. No amount of hereditary virtue has thus far saved the merely devout communities from deteriorating, when let alone, into comfort and good dinners. This is most noticeable in detached organizations, --Moravians, Shakers, Quakers, Roman Catholics,they all go the same way at last; when persecution and missionary toil are over, they enter on a tiresome millennium of meat and pudding. To guard against this spiritual obesity, this carnal Eden, what has the next age in reserve for us? Suppose forty million perfectly healthy and virtuous Americans, what is to keep them from being as uninteresting as so many Chinese? I know of nothing but that aim which is the climax and flower of all civilization, without which purity itself grows dull and devotion tedious,--the pursuit of Science and Art. Give to all this nation peace, freedom, prosperity, and even virtue, still there must be some absorbing interest, some career. That career c
James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley, Chapter 12: editor of the New Yorker. (search)
of wrath— Children of genial suns and fostering showers. Now crushed and trampled in the million's path— What do they, withering here? Ah! spurn them not? they tell of sorrow's flow— There has been one to shed affection's tear, And 'mid a nation's joy, to feel a pang of woe! No! scorn them not, those flowers, They speak too deeply to each feeling heart— They tell that Guilt hath still its holier hours— That none may e'er from earth unmourned depart; That none bath all effaced The spell of Eden o'er his spirit cast, The heavenly image in his features traced— Or quenched the love unchanging to the last! Another of the Historic Pencilings, was on the Death of Pericles. This was its last stanza: No! let the brutal conqueror Still glut his soul with war, And let the ignoble million With shouts surround his car; But dearer far the lasting fame Which twines its wreaths with peace— Give me the tearless memory Of the mighty one of Greece. Only one of his poems seems to hav
Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1, Chapter 12: Stepping westward 1901-1902; aet. 82-83 (search)
like the Millennium. It is the enlargement of religious sympathy; not, as some may think, the progress of critical indifferentism. During this morning's service my desire to speak to prisoners reasserted itself strongly; also my thought of one of my sermons which I wish to write. One should be to the text: The glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, the reflection of divine glory in God's saints, like the reflection of the sun's light in the planets. Another about Adam being placed in Eden to tend the flowers and water them. This should concern our office in the land of our birth, into which we are born to love and serve our country. Will speak of the self-banished Americans, Hale's Man without a Country, etc. This day has been so full of thought and suggestion that I hardly know how to let it go. I pray that it may bear some fruit in my life, what is left of it. May 24. The annual Club luncheon in honor of my birthday. I felt almost overwhelmed by the great attention sho
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, A book of American explorers, chapter 2 (search)
he inhabitants. Some of the natives came out to the ship in canoes, to beg me, in the name of their king, to go on shore. And, when they saw that I paid no attention to them, they came to the ship in their canoes in countless number; many of them wearing pieces of gold on their breasts, and some with bracelets of pearl on their arms. V.—Columbus thinks himself near the earthly paradise. [from the same narrative. It was generally believed, in the time of Columbus, that the garden of Eden, or earthly paradise, still existed somewhere on the globe. Irving's Columbus (Appendix) gives an account of these views.] I have always read, that the world comprising the land and water was spherical, as is testified by the investigations of Ptolemy and others, who have proved it by the eclipses of the moon, and other observations made from east to west, as well as by the elevation of the pole from north to south. But I have now seen so much irregularity, as I have already described, t
James Russell Lowell, Among my books, Milton. (search)
and others in which the assonance almost becomes rhyme, certainly a fault in blank-verse:— From the Asian Kings (and Parthian among these), From India and the Golden Chersonese; That soon refreshed him wearied, and repaired What hunger, if aught hunger, had impaired; And will alike be punished, whether thou Reign or reign not, though to that gentle brow; Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, Save what is in destroying, other joy; Shall all be Paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier days; This my long sufferance and my day of grace They who neglect and scorn shall never taste; So far remote with diminution seen, First in his East the glorious lamp was seen. ‘First in his East,’ is not soothing to the ear. These examples (and others might be adduced) serve to show that Milton's ear was too busy about the larger interests of his measures to be always careful of the lesser. He was a strategist rather than a drill-sergeant in verse, capable, beyond any oth<
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 21. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 1.10 (search)
fore us. Here we found, to our surprise, three Frenchmen. They were employed curing fish, while their vessel was off for another catch. Besides their rude quarters, we were taken to visit the residence of the owner of the island, who lived in France, and were astonished to find here, afar from all the world, apartments displaying all that luxury, wealth and culture suggested, including a library of nearly 1,000 volumes. No bolt held or key unlocked this; it was all as open as the Garden of Eden to our first parents. On our departure the hospitable Frenchmen presented us with a supply of cured fish and half a barrel of penguin eggs. The ruse failed. Two days later we fell in with and gave chase to the bark Delphine, of Searsport, Me. The captain, a plucky fellow, showed high heels for some time, and not until the third solid shot almost cut away his fore rigging did he come to. He told the boarding officer that his wife was ill, and could not be removed. This necessitate
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 33. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Gettysburg-Pickett's charge. (search)
f circumstances which we cannot now consider. The success of his plan depended largely on the promptness and co-operation of his generals. Without this there could be little hope of success. He gave his orders and retired for to-morrow. All wait on the to-morrow. And now the 3d of July has come. The summer sun early heralded by roseate dawn, rises serenely and brightly from beyond the wooded hills. No darkening clouds obscure his bright and onward way. His aspect is as joyous as when Eden first bloomed under his rays. Earth and heaven are in happy accord. The song of birds, the chirp and motion of winged insects greet the early morn. The wild flowers and the cultivated grain of the fields are glad in their beauty and fruitage. The streams joyously ripple on their accustomed way, and the trees lift and wave their leafy branches in the warm, life—giving air. Never was sky or earth more serene—more harmonious—more aglow with light and life. In blurring discord with it all <
Historic leaves, volume 7, April, 1908 - January, 1909, chapter 5 (search)
s and bayous almost abruptly rise the undulating prairies of Western Louisiana. These lowlands teem with the wildest Southern vegetation, and are intercepted everywhere with mazes of black and sluggish bayous, creeks, and lagoons, along some of whose borders lie sugar and corn lands, among the richest of the South; while others form dank, dismal, and almost impenetrable swamps, where alligators sing praises to unknown demons, and wriggling moccasins revel in their muddy and watery gardens of Eden. Through these lowlands and over these prairies marched the army, followed much of the way by vultures, the so-called turkey buzzards of the South, who, perched in platoons on the dead limbs of the cypress, seemed like vanguards of ill omen from the realms of Pluto. On April 11 we crossed Berwick Bay to Berwick City, and on April 12 began that march of three hundred miles whose destination proved to be Port Hudson. In speaking of Port Hudson, we can hardly leave out the strategic manoe
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 1. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Narrative and legendary poems (search)
per blue Garonne! O Love!—so hallowing every soil That gives thy sweet flower room, Wherever, nursed by ease or toil, The human heart takes bloom!— Plant of lost Eden, from the sod Of sinful earth unriven, White blossom of the trees of God Dropped down to us from heaven – This tangled waste of mound and stone Is holy for thy sah displaces, A subtler sense of pleasure fills Each rustic sport she graces. Her presence lends its warmth and health To all who come before it. If woman lost us Eden, such As she alone restore it. For larger life and wiser aims The farmer is her debtor; Who holds to his another's heart Must needs be worse or better. Through he coiling snake And ominous, black-winged bird; and all the while The low rebuking of the distant waves Stole in upon him like the voice of God Among the trees of Eden. Girding up His soul's loins with a resolute hand, he thrust The base thought from him: “Nauhaught, be a man! Starve, if need be; but, while you live, look out
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems of Nature (search)
ged with gold their mantles flow On the slopes of westering knolls; In the wind they whisper low Of the Sunset Land of Souls. Doubt who may, O friend of mine! Thou and I have seen them too; On before with beck and sign Still they glide, and we pursue. More than clouds of purple trail In the gold of setting day; More than gleams of wing or sail Beckon from the sea-mist gray. Glimpses of immortal youth, Gleams and glories seen and flown, Far-heard voices sweet with truth, Airs from viewless Eden blown; Beauty that eludes our grasp, Sweetness that transcends our taste, Loving hands we may not clasp, Shining feet that mock our haste; Gentle eyes we closed below, Tender voices heard once more, Smile and call us, as they go On and onward, still before. Guided thus, O friend of mine! Let us walk our little way, Knowing by each beckoning sign That we are not quite astray. Chase we still, with baffled feet, Smiling eye and waving hand, Sought and seeker soon shall meet, Lost and found,
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