The Poems of Philip Freneau: Poet of the American Revolution, Količina 3University Library, 1907 |
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Pogosti izrazi in povedi
æther ancient arms barque blast blest blood bold breast British Briton Caty-did cause clime crew crown dear death despotic dust edition of 1815 England fair fame fate fear fire flame France freedom Freneau's note frigate gallant Gaul groves guns heart heaven honor hosts isle Jay's treaty kings knaves land laws Liberty mankind Megara mighty mind monarchs National Gazette native nature nature's night Nootka Sound o'er once pain peace Philadelphia Philip Freneau plain poem pride proud race rage Reason's reign rise round royal sail scene shade ship shore Shylock sigh Sir Thomas Hardy slaves smile soon soul stanza star storm supra sway sword tell Text things Thomas Paine thou thousand throne Time-Piece toil town trees tyrants vengeance verse vext virtue waste yellow fever
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 167 - O most pernicious woman! 0 villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables, — meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark. — [Writing. So, uncle, there you are. — Now to my word; It is "Adieu, adieu! remember me,
Stran 85 - Little did I dream when she added titles of veneration to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in that bosom...
Stran 284 - Than on the margin of this lake. Welcome ! — I hail you to my glass : All welcome here you find ; Here let the cloud of trouble pass, Here be all care resigned. This fluid never fails to please, And drown the griefs of men or bees. What forced you here we cannot know, And you will scarcely tell...
Stran 85 - ... little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever.
Stran 310 - Words of warning, words of dread, " All who meet me, have a care ! I am England's Guerriere."* On the wide Atlantic deep (Not her equal for the fight) The Constitution, on her way, Chanced to meet these men of might : On her sails was nothing said : But her waist the teeth...
Stran 219 - Left to himself, wherever man is found, In peace he aims to walk life's little round ; In peace to sail, in peace to till the soil, Nor force false grandeur from a brother's toil. All but the base, designing, scheming, few, Who seize on nations with a robber's view, With crowns and sceptres awe his dazzled eye, And priests that hold the artillery of the sky ; These, these, with armies, navies, potent grown, Impoverish man and bid the nations groan.
Stran 70 - gainst Indian hosts combined Scaped from the trap — to leave their tails behind. Peace to all feuds! — and come the happier day When Reason's sun shall light us on our way ; When erring man shall all his Rights retrieve, No despots rule him, and no priests deceive, Till then, Columbia ! — watch each stretch of power, Nor sleep too soundly at the midnight hour, By flattery won, and lulled by soothing strains, Silenus took his nap — and waked in chains — In a soft dream of smooth delusion...
Stran 285 - ... have you go And bid a glad farewell: On lighter wings we bid you fly, — Your dart will now all foes defy. Yet take not, oh! too deep a drink, And in this ocean die; Here bigger bees than you might sink, Even bees full six feet high. Like Pharaoh, then, you would be said To perish in a sea of red.
Stran 286 - June, 1809' Princes and kings decay and die And, instant, rise again : But this is not the case, trust me, With men like Thomas Paine. In vain the democratic host His equal would attain : For years to come they will not boast A second Thomas Paine. Though many may his name assume ; Assumption is in vain ; For every man has not his plume — Whose name is Thomas Paine.
Stran 124 - ... 29 Reft was his scull of hair, and no fresh bloom Of cheerful mirth sate on his visage hoar: Sometimes he rais'd his head, while deep-drawn groans Were mixt with words that did his fate deplore.