Clio, Volumes 1-2

Front Cover
S. Babcock & Company, 1822
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Page ii - In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;
Page 62 - DEEP in the wave is a Coral Grove, Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove. Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine.
Page 27 - Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son She bore. Thou art the firm unshaken rock, On which we rest ; And, rising from thy hardy stock, Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, And slavery's galling chains unlock, And free the oppressed : All, who the wreath of freedom twine, Beneath the shadow of their vine Are blest.
Page 79 - ... to the music of its melodies, And sparkle in its brightness. Earth is veiled And mantled with its beauty; and the walls, That close the universe with crystal in, Are eloquent with voices, that proclaim The unseen glories of immensity, In harmonies, too perfect, and too high, For aught but beings of celestial mould, And speak to man in one eternal hymn, Unfading beauty, and unyielding power.
Page 65 - HE comes not — I have watched the moon go down, But yet he comes not. — Once it was not so. He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow, The while he holds his riot in that town.
Page 81 - The hand firm clenched and quivering, and the foot Planted in attitude to spring, and dart Its vengeance, are the language it employs. So the poetic feeling needs no words To give it utterance ; but it swells, and glows, And revels in the...
Page 79 - Plays o'er the higher keys, and bears aloft The peal of bursting thunder, and then calls By mellow touches, from the softer tubes, Voices of melting tenderness, that blend With pure and gentle musings, till the soul Commingling with the melody is borne, Rapt, and dissolved in ecstasy, to Heaven.
Page 27 - There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore ; Thou art the shelter of the free ; The home, the port of Liberty, Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son She bore.
Page 80 - Tis not the chime and flow of words, that move In measured file, and metrical array ; 'T is not the union of returning sounds, Nor all the pleasing artifice of rhyme, And quantity, and accent, that can give This all-pervading spirit to the ear, Or blend it with the movings of the soul. 'T is a mysterious feeling, which combines Man with the world around him, in a chain Woven of flowers...

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