The Pathfinder: Or, The Inland Sea

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Lea and Blanchard, 1845

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Pagina 165 - There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods...
Pagina 128 - Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons...
Pagina 1 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Pagina 221 - What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy, That learning is too proud to gather up, But which the poor, and the despised of all Seek and obtain, and often find unsought ? Tell me, and I will tell thee what is truth.
Pagina 40 - Before these fields were shorn and tilled, Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; The melody of waters filled The fresh and boundless wood ; And torrents dashed and rivulets played, And fountains spouted in the shade.
Pagina 138 - In short, it was said of the Pathfinder, by one accustomed to study his fellows, that he was a fair example of what a just-minded and pure man might be, while untempted by unruly or ambitious desires, and left to follow the bias of his feelings, amid the solitary grandeur and ennobling influences of a sublime nature...
Pagina 94 - Nor have these eyes by greener hills Been soothed, in all my wanderings. And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake Is visibly delighted ; For not a feature of those hills Is in the mirror slighted.
Pagina 126 - His lustlesse limbs, and drowne his baser mind, Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe, Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind, And great dame Nature's hand-maide, chearing every kind.
Pagina 79 - Yet wandering I found on my ruinous walk, By the dial-stone aged and green, One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, To mark where a garden had been. Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race, All wild in the silence of nature, it drew, From each wandering sun-beam, a lonely embrace, For the night-weed and thorn overshadow'd the place, Where the flower of my forefathers grew.
Pagina 161 - The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and accuracy of sight [the italics are mine] was so profound and general, that the instant he made this declaration the spectators began to distrust their own opinions, and a dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact. There, sure enough, it was found that the Quartermaster's bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper's, and...

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