The Oak Openings: Or, The Bee-hunter

Burgess, Stringer & Company, 1848 - 458 pàgines

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Pàgina 169 - Benjamin shall ravin as a wolf: in the morning he shall devour the prey, and at night he shall divide the spoil.
Pàgina 193 - God shall wound the head of his enemies, and the hairy scalp of such a one as goeth on still in his wickedness.
Pàgina 168 - And he saw that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant; and bowed his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute.
Pàgina 127 - He turned him round and fled amain With hurry and dash to the beach again ; He twisted over from side to side, And laid his cheek to the cleaving tide. The strokes of his plunging arms are fleet, And with all his might he flings his feet, But the water-sprites are round him still, To cross his path and work him ill.
Pàgina 9 - HOW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower...
Pàgina 170 - 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.
Pàgina 199 - Who scoff in your pride at your Maker's name, By the pebbly stream and the shady tree — Hope in your mountains, and hope in your streams, Bow down in their worship, and loudly pray ; Trust in your strength, and believe in your dreams, But the wind shall carry them all away.
Pàgina 83 - ... played! There oft a restless Indian queen (Pale Shebah with her braided hair) And many a barbarous form is seen To chide the man that lingers there. By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews; In habit for the chase arrayed, The hunter still the deer pursues, The hunter and the deer— a shade! And long shall timorous Fancy see The painted chief, and pointed spear, And Reason's self shall bow the knee To shadows and delusions here.
Pàgina 124 - My wish is to cut off the pale-faces. This must be done, or the pale-faces will ' cut off the Injins. There is no choice. One nation or the other must be destroyed. I am a red man; my heart tells me that the pale-faces should die. They are on strange hunting-grounds, not the red men. They are wrong, we are right. But, Bourdon, I have friends among the pale-faces, and it is not natural to scalp our friends. I do not understand a religion that tells us to love our enemies, and to do good to them that...
Pàgina 200 - For an Indian isle she shapes her way With constant mind both night and day ; She seems to hold her home in view; And sails as if the path she knew ; So calm and stately in her motion Across the unfathomed, trackless ocean.

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