hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position (current method)
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in ascending order. Sort in descending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
Massachusetts (Massachusetts, United States) 32 0 Browse Search
Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) 26 0 Browse Search
Jesus Christ 22 0 Browse Search
France (France) 20 0 Browse Search
Hall 18 0 Browse Search
New England (United States) 16 0 Browse Search
Toussaint 16 0 Browse Search
John C. Fremont 14 0 Browse Search
Saxon 14 0 Browse Search
Moses 14 0 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in a specific section of The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). Search the whole document.

Found 295 total hits in 143 results.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ...
France (France) (search for this): chapter 2
es down the air; And street and tower, and temple old, Are silent as despair. The Lombard stands no more at bay, Rome's fresh young life has bled in vain; The ravens scattered by the day Come back with night again. Now, while the fratricides of France Are treading on the neck of Rome, Hider at Gaeta, seize thy chance! Coward and cruel, come! Creep now from Naples' bloody skirt; Thy mummer's part was acted well, While Rome, with steel and fire begirt, Before thy crusade fell! Her death-groansliving manhood less Than Mammon's vilest dust,— While there's a right to need my vote, A wrong to sweep away, Up! clouted knee and ragged coat! A man is a man to-day! 1848. The dream of Pio Nono. it chanced that while the pious troops of France Fought in the crusade Pio Nono preached, What time the holy Bourbons stayed his hands (The Hur and Aaron meet for such a Moses), Stretched forth from Naples towards rebellious Rome To bless the ministry of Oudinot, And sanctify his iron homilies
New England (United States) (search for this): chapter 2
and ghastly dew The vines and olives of the Holy Land; The shrieking curses of the hunted Jew; The white-sown bones of heretics, where'er They sank beneath the Crusade's holy spear; Goa's dark dungeons, Malta's sea-washed cell, Where with the hymns the ghostly fathers sung Mingled the groans by subtle torture wrung, Heaven's anthem blending with the shriek of hell! The midnight of Bartholomew, the stake Of Smithfield, and that thrice-accursed flame Which Calvin kindled by Geneva's lake; New England's scaffold, and the priestly sneer Which mocked its victims in that hour of fear, When guilt itself a human tear might claim,— Bear witness, O Thou wronged and merciful One! That Earth's most hateful crimes have in Thy name been done! Iv. Thank God! that I have lived to see the time When the great truth begins at last to find An utterance from the deep heart of mankind, Earnest and clear, that all Revenge is Crime, That man is holier than a creed, that all Restraint upon him must con
Alpine, Ga. (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
d bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it! For you, along the Spanish main A hundred keels are ploughing; For you, the Indian on the plain His lasso-coil is throwing; For you, deep glens with hemlock dark The woodman's fire is lighting; For you, upon the oak's gray bark, The woodman's axe is smiting. For you, from Carolina's pine The rosin-gum is stealing; For you, the dark-eyed Florentine Her silken skein is reeling; For you, the dizzy goatherd roams His rugged Alpine ledges; For you, round all her shepherd homes, Bloom England's thorny hedges. The foremost still, by day or night, On moated mound or heather, Where'er the need of trampled right Brought toiling men together; Where the free burghers from the wall Defied the mail-clad master, Than yours, at Freedom's trumpet-call, No craftsmen rallied faster. Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, Ye heed no idle scorner; Free hands and hearts are still your pride, And duty done, your honor. Ye dare to trust
Plymouth Rock (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
l with other ills, Redress the red man's grievance, break The Circean cup which shames and kills, And Labor full requital make? Alone to such as fitly bear Thy civic honors bid them fall? And call thy daughters forth to share The rights and duties pledged to all? Give every child his right of school, Merge private greed in public good, And spare a treasury overfull The tax upon a poor man's food? No lack was in thy primal stock, No weakling founders builded here; Thine were the men of Plymouth Rock, The Huguenot and Cavalier; And they whose firm endurance gained The freedom of the souls of men, Whose hands, unstained with blood, maintained The swordless commonwealth of Penn. And thine shall be the power of all To do the work which duty bids, And make the people's council hall As lasting as the Pyramids! Well have thy later years made good Thy brave-said word a century back, The pledge of human brotherhood, The equal claim of white and black. That word still echoes round the wo
Bunker (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
mb, Crimson with murder, touches him! What has the gray-haired prisoner done? Has murder stained his hands with gore? Not so; his crime's a fouler one; God made the old man poor! For this he shares a felon's cell, The fittest earthly type of hell! For this, the boon for which he poured His young blood on the invader's sword, And counted light the fearful cost; His blood-gained liberty is lost! And so, for such a place of rest, Old prisoner, dropped thy blood as rain On Concord's field, and Bunker's crest, And Saratoga's plain? Look forth, thou man of many scars, Through thy dim dungeon's iron bars; It must be joy, in sooth, to see Yon monument upreared to thee; Piled granite and a prison cell,— The land repays thy service well! Go, ring the bells and fire the guns, And fling the starry banner out; Shout ‘ Freedom!’ till your lisping ones Give back their cradle-shout; Let boastful eloquence declaim Of honor, liberty, and fame; Still let the poet's strain be heard, With glory for eac<
Standing Rock (Wyoming, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
the disastrous battle on the Big Horn River, in which General Custer and his entire force were slain, the chief Rain-in-the-Face was one of the fiercest leaders of the Indians. In Longfellow's poem on the massacre, these lines will be remembered:— ‘Revenge!’ cried Rain-in-the-Face, “Revenge upon all the race Of the White Chief with yellow hair!” And the mountains dark and high From their crags reechoed the cry Of his anger and despair. He is now a man of peace; and the agent at Standing Rock, Dakota, writes, September 28, 1886: Rain-in-the-Face is very anxious to go to Hampton. I fear he is too old, but he desires very much to go. The Southern Workman, the organ of General Armstrong's Industrial School at Hampton, Va., says in a late number:— Rain-in-the-Face has applied before to come to Hampton, but his age would exclude him from the school as an ordinary student. He has shown himself very much in earnest about it, and is anxious, all say, to learn the better ways
Longfellow (search for this): chapter 2
With peace that comes of purity And strength to simple justice due, So runs our loyal dream of thee; God of our fathers! make it true. O Land of lands! to thee we give Our prayers, our hopes, our service free; For thee thy sons shall nobly live, And at thy need shall die for thee! On the Big horn. In the disastrous battle on the Big Horn River, in which General Custer and his entire force were slain, the chief Rain-in-the-Face was one of the fiercest leaders of the Indians. In Longfellow's poem on the massacre, these lines will be remembered:— ‘Revenge!’ cried Rain-in-the-Face, “Revenge upon all the race Of the White Chief with yellow hair!” And the mountains dark and high From their crags reechoed the cry Of his anger and despair. He is now a man of peace; and the agent at Standing Rock, Dakota, writes, September 28, 1886: Rain-in-the-Face is very anxious to go to Hampton. I fear he is too old, but he desires very much to go. The Southern Workman, the organ of
Sherman (search for this): chapter 2
m the wall Defied the mail-clad master, Than yours, at Freedom's trumpet-call, No craftsmen rallied faster. Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, Ye heed no idle scorner; Free hands and hearts are still your pride, And duty done, your honor. Ye dare to trust, for honest fame, The jury Time empanels, And leave to truth each noble name Which glorifies your annals. Thy songs, Hans Sachs, are living yet, In strong and hearty German; And Bloomfield's lay, and Gifford's wit, And patriot fame of Sherman; Still from his book, a mystic seer, The soul of Behmen teaches, And England's priest craft shakes to hear Of Fox's leathern breeches. The foot is yours; where'er it falls, It treads your well-wrought leather, On earthen floor, in marble halls, On carpet, or on heather. Still there the sweetest charm is found Of matron grace or vestal's, As Hebe's foot bore nectar round Among the old celestials! Rap, rap!—your stout and bluff brogan, With footsteps slow and weary, May wander where the sk
Coward (search for this): chapter 2
e apology in the reluctant confession of one of the most eminent Romish priests, the eloquent and devoted Father Ventura. the cannon's brazen lips are cold; No red shell blazes down the air; And street and tower, and temple old, Are silent as despair. The Lombard stands no more at bay, Rome's fresh young life has bled in vain; The ravens scattered by the day Come back with night again. Now, while the fratricides of France Are treading on the neck of Rome, Hider at Gaeta, seize thy chance! Coward and cruel, come! Creep now from Naples' bloody skirt; Thy mummer's part was acted well, While Rome, with steel and fire begirt, Before thy crusade fell! Her death-groans answered to thy prayer; Thy chant, the drum and bugle-call; Thy lights, the burning villa's glare; Thy beads, the shell and ball! Let Austria clear thy way, with hands Foul from Ancona's cruel sack, And Naples, with his dastard bands Of murderers, lead thee back! Rome's lips are dumb; the orphan's wail, The mother's shr
Frost (search for this): chapter 2
ars of heaven shall guide us, The breath of heaven shall speed 1845. The Lumbermen. Wildly round our woodland quarters Sad-voiced Autumn grieves; Thickly down these swelling waters Float his fallen leaves. Through the tall and naked timber, Column-like and old, Gleam the sunsets of November, From their skies of gold. O'er us, to the southland heading, Screams the gray wild-goose; On the night-frost sounds the treading Of the brindled moose. Noiseless creeping, while we're sleeping, Frost his task-work plies; Soon, his icy bridges heaping, Shall our log-piles rise. When, with sounds of smothered thunder, On some night of rain, Lake and river break asunder Winter's weakened chain, Down the wild March flood shall bear them To the saw-mill's wheel, Or where Steam, the slave, shall tear them With his teeth of steel. Be it starlight, be it moonlight, In these vales below, When the earliest beams of sunlight Streak the mountain's snow, Crisps the hoar-frost, keen and early, To o
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ...