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" The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan... "
The Wheat-sheaf; Or, Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside ... - Pągina 197
1853 - 416 pągines
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Specimens of the American Poets

1822 - 298 pągines
...of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning,...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his -own dashings — yet, the dead are there, And millions in those...
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The Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine

1857 - 1196 pągines
...those of death ; or rather, the inspiration of the former is everywhere consecrated by the latter. " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods M'here rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there...
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The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation

John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 pągines
...Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes . •„ That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings . ....lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the...
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English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ...

John March Putnam - 1828 - 200 pągines
...THANATOPSIS- BRYANT. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosoro. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods * Tear*, is a noun without a governing word ; Rule 15.— Hence, is an adverb ami qualities is understood...
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Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829 - 436 pągines
...of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet— the dead are there, And millions hi those...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., Volum 2

1829 - 514 pągines
...of death Through the still lapse of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning,...and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., Volum 2

1829 - 520 pągines
...momipg, and the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since (irst The flight of vcars began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone....
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Specimens of American Poetry: With Critical and Biographical ..., Volum 3

Samuel Kettell - 1829 - 432 pągines
...globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there, And millions in those...
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Studies in Poetry: Embracing Notices of the Lives and Writings of the Best ...

George Barrell Cheever - 1830 - 516 pągines
...of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there, And millions in those...
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English Grammar, with an Improved Syntax

J. M. Putnam - 1831 - 174 pągines
...pierce, Or loose thyself in the contmuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save Iiis own dashings, — yet the dead are there, And millions...in those solitudes, since first The flight of years bega*u, hare laid them down In their last sleep ; the dead reign there alone. So shalt them rest—...
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