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Vienna (Wien, Austria) (search for this): chapter 6
late remorse is now his tomb to rear! 1830. Isabella of Austria. Isabella, Infanta of Parma, and consort of Joseph of Austria, predicted herown death, immediately after her marriage with the Emperor. Amidst the gayety and splendor of Vienna and Presburg, she was reserved and melancholy; she believed that Heaven had given her a view of the future, and that her child, the namesake of the great Maria Theresa, would perish with her. Her prediction was fulfilled. 'Midst the palace bowerng must have way, That hidden tide of unnamed woe nor fear nor love can stay. Smile on, smile on, light-hearted ones! Your sun of joy is high: Smile on, and leave the doomed of Heaven alone to weep and die! “ A funeral chant was wailing through Vienna's holy pile, A coffin with its gorgeous pall was borne along the aisle; The drooping flags of many lands waved slow above the dead, A mighty band of mourners came, a king was at its head,— A youthful king, with mournful tread, and dim and tearful
Burma (Myanmar) (search for this): chapter 6
for the quiet haunts of home, For love and its companionship, and all The blessings left behind him; yet above Its sorrows and its clouds his spirit rose, Tearful and yet triumphant, taking hold Of the eternal promises of God, And steadfast in its faith. Here are some lines Penned in his lonely mission-house and sent To a dear friend at home who even now Lingers above them with a mournful joy, Holding them well-nigh sacred as a leaf Plucked from the record of a breaking heart. Evening in Burmah. A night of wonder! piled afar With ebon feet and crests of snow, Like Himalaya's peaks, which bar The sunset and the sunset's star From half the shadowed vale below, Volume and vast the dense clouds lie, And over them, and down the sky, Paled in the moon, the lightnings go. And what a strength of light and shade Is chequering all the earth below! And, through the jungle's verdant braid, Of tangled vine and wild reed made, What blossoms in the moonlight glow I The Indian rose's lovelines
Penobscot (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
f many a holy hymn,— The solemn bell of vespers ringing,— And hallowed torchlight falling dim On pictured saint and seraphim! For here beneath him lies unrolled, Bathed deep in morning's flood of gold, A vision gorgeous as the dream Of the beatified may seem, When, as his Church's legends say, Borne upward in ecstatic bliss, The rapt enthusiast soars away Unto a brighter world than this: A mortal's glimpse beyond the pale,— A moment's lifting of the veil! Far eastward o'er the lovely bay, Penobscot's clustered wigwams lay; And gently from that Indian town The verdant hillside slopes adown, To where the sparkling waters play Upon the yellow sands below; And shooting round the winding shores Of narrow capes, and isles which lie Slumbering to ocean's lullaby,— With birchen boat and glancing oars, The red men to their fishing go; While from their planting ground is borne The treasure of the golden corn, By laughing girls, whose dark eyes glow Wild through the locks which o'er them flow,
Vermont (Vermont, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
he tempest is torn. And though savage and wild be this climate of ours, And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers, Far dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves! Hurrah for Vermont! For the land which we till Must have sons to defend her front valley and hill; Leave the harvest to rot on the fields where it grows, And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes. From far Michiscom's wild valley, to where Poosoonsuck stecook River to Lutterlock town— Ho—all to the rescue! Vermonters, come down! Come York or come Hampshire, come traitors or knaves If ye rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our graves; Our vow is recorded—our banner unfurled, In the name of Vermont we defy all the world! To A Poetical Trio in the City of Gotham. [This jeu d'esprit was written by Whittier in 1832. The notes are his own. The authorship was not discovered till after his death.] Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea <
Placentia (Canada) (search for this): chapter 6
housand wooded islands lie, Gems of the waters! with each hue Of brightness set in ocean's blue. Each bears aloft its tuft of trees Touched by the pencil of the frost, And, with the motion of each breeze, A moment seen, a moment lost, Changing and blent, confused and tossed, The brighter with the darker crossed, Their thousand tints of beauty glow Down in the restless waves below, And tremble in the sunny skies, As if, from waving bough to bough, Flitted the birds of paradise. There sleep Placentia's group, and there Pere Breteaux marks the hour of prayer; And there, beneath the sea-worn cliff, On which the Father's hut is seen, The Indian stays his rocking skiff, And peers the hemlock-boughs between, Half trembling, as he seeks to look Upon the Jesuit's Cross and Book. Father Hennepin, a missionary among the Iroquois, mentions that the Indians believed him to be a conjurer, and that they were particularly afraid of a bright silver chalice which he had in his possession. ‘The Indi
Providence, R. I. (Rhode Island, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
in some forest's deep gloom, Where the thunder-scath'd peaks of Helvetia are frowning, And the Rhine's rapid waters encircle their bases, Where the snows of long years are the hoary Alps crowning, And the tempest-charg'd vapor their tall tops embraces:— There sure might be fix'd, amid scenery so frightful, The region of romance and wild fairy-tale,— But such scenes could not be to my heart so delightful As the home of my fathers,—fair Merrimac's vale! There are streams where the bounty of Providence musters The fairest of fruits by their warm sunny sides, The vine bending low with the grape's heavy clusters, And the orange-tree waving its fruit o'er their tides:— But I envy not him whose lot has been cast there, For oppression is there—and the hand of the spoiler, Regardless of justice or mercy, has past there, And made him a wretched and indigent toiler. No—dearer to me are the scenes of my childhood, The moss-cover'd bank and the breeze-wafted sail, The age-stinted oak and the
Clarkson, Mo. (Missouri, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
perfum'd with heartfelt sighs of grief, And moistened by the tear of gratitude,— Oh, how unlike the spot where war's grim chief Sinks on the field, in sanguine waves imbrued I Who mourns for him, whose footsteps can be viewed With reverential awe imprinted near The monument rear'd o'er the man of blood? Or who waste on it sorrow's balmy tear? None! shame and misery rest alone upon his bier. Offspring of heaven! Benevolence, thy pow'r Bade Wilberforce its mighty champion be, And taught a Clarkson's ardent mind to soar O'er every obstacle, when serving thee:— Theirs was the task to set the sufferer free, To break the bonds which bound th' unwilling slave, To shed abroad the light of liberty, And leave to all the rights their Maker gave, To bid the world rejoice o'er hated slavery's grave. Diffuse thy charms, Benevolence! let thy light Pierce the dark clouds which ages past have thrown Before the beams of truth—and nature's right, Inborn, let every hardened tyrant own; On our fair s<
Derne (North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany) (search for this): chapter 6
he Wish of To-Day. Paean. The Poor Voter on Election Day. The Crisis. The Reward. The Holy Land. Worship. The Peace Convention at Brussels. 1849Calef in Boston. To Pius IX. On Receiving an Eagle's Quill from Lake Superior. Kathleen. Our State. To Fredrika Bremer. The Men of Old. The Christian Tourists. The Lakeside. Autumn Thoughts. The Legend of St. Mark. 1850The Well of Loch Maree. Ichabod. In the Evil Day. Elliott. The Hill-Top. To Avis Keene. A Sabbath Scene. Derne. Lines on the Portrait of a Celebrated Publisher. All's Well. 1851Remembrance. The Chapel of the Hermits. The Prisoners of Naples. To my Old Schoolmaster. Invocation. Wordsworth. In Peace. Kossuth. To ——. Lines written after a Summer Day's Excursion. What State Street said. 1852Pictures. The Cross. First-Day Thoughts. Questions of Life. April. The Disenthralled. The Peace of Europe. Eva. Astrea. 1853Tauler. Summer by the Lakeside. Trust. My Namesake. The Dream of
Atlanta (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
ow-Bound. The Common Question. Our Master. Abraham Davenport. Lines on a Fly Leaf. The Maids of Attitash. The Dead Ship of Harpswell. Letter to Lucy Larcom. 1867George L. Stearns. The Worship of Nature. Freedom in Brazil. The Palatine. The Tent on the Beach. 1868The Hive at Gettysburg. Divine Compassion. The Clear Vision. The Meeting. The Two Rabbins. Among the Hills. The Dole of Jarl Thorkell. Hymn for the House of Worship at Georgetown. An Autograph. 1869Howard at Atlanta. Garibaldi. Norumbega. The Pageant. 1870Miriam. In School-Days. To Lydia Maria Child. My Triumph. Nauhaught, the Deacon. The Prayer-Seeker. The Laurels. A Spiritual Manifestation. To Lucy Larcom. 1871The Sisters. Marguerite. The Robin. The Singer. Disarmament. How Mary Grew. Chicago. My Birthday. 1872The Pressed Gentian. A Woman. The Pennsylvania Pilgrim. The Three Bells. King Volmer and Elsie. The Brewing of Soma. Hymn for the Opening of Plymouth Church. 1873Con
Amesbury (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 6
e matter simply is that I am growing older. And then I dare not trust a moon seen over one's left shoulder, As I saw this with slender horns caught in a west hill pine, As on a Stamboul minaret curves the arch-impostor's sign,— So I must stay in Amesbury, and let you go your way, And guess what colors greet your eyes, what shapes your steps delay; What pictured forms of heathen lore, of god and goddess please you, What idol graven images you bend your wicked knees to. But why should I of evil dr ask of it, I can't take the task of it. P. S.—For myself, if I'm able, And half comfortable, I shall run for the seashore To some place as before, Where blunt we at least find The teeth of the East wind, And spring does not tarry As it does at Amesbury; But where it will be to I cannot yet see to. A Farewell. [Written for Mr. and Mrs. Claflin as they were about to sail to Europe.] What shall I say, dear friends, to whom I owe The choicest blessings, dropping from the hands Of trustf
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