The Works of Washington Irving, Том 2G. P. Putnam, 1853 |
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... deep rivers , rolling in solemn silence to the ocean ; her trackless forests , where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence ; her skies , kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine ; —no , never need an American ...
... deep rivers , rolling in solemn silence to the ocean ; her trackless forests , where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence ; her skies , kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine ; —no , never need an American ...
Страница 10
... deep rivers , rolling in solemn silence to the ocean ; her trackless forests , where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence ; her skies , kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine ; —no , never need an American ...
... deep rivers , rolling in solemn silence to the ocean ; her trackless forests , where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence ; her skies , kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine ; —no , never need an American ...
Страница 14
... deep , and of the air , and rather tend to abstract the mind from worldly themes . I delighted to loll over the quarter - railing , or climb to the main - top , of a calm day , and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom of a sum ...
... deep , and of the air , and rather tend to abstract the mind from worldly themes . I delighted to loll over the quarter - railing , or climb to the main - top , of a calm day , and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom of a sum ...
Страница 15
... deep at their uncouth gambols . Shoals of porpoises tumbling about the bow of the ship ; the grampus slowly heaving his huge form above the surface ; or the ravenous shark , darting , like a spectre , through the blue waters . My ...
... deep at their uncouth gambols . Shoals of porpoises tumbling about the bow of the ship ; the grampus slowly heaving his huge form above the surface ; or the ravenous shark , darting , like a spectre , through the blue waters . My ...
Страница 16
... deep . Silence , oblivion , like the waves , have closed over them , and no one can tell the story of their end . What sighs have been wafted after that ship ! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! How often has the ...
... deep . Silence , oblivion , like the waves , have closed over them , and no one can tell the story of their end . What sighs have been wafted after that ship ! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! How often has the ...
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abbey ancient antiquated Baltus Van Tassel baron beautiful bosom Bracebridge Canonchet castle character charms Christmas church church-yard cottage countenance customs Dame dance decorated deep delight distant door earth Eastcheap England English Falstaff fancy feelings flowers friends gothic architecture grave green hall hand heard heart horses hung Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian John Bull kind lady Little Britain living look mansion Master Simon melancholy ment merry mind mingled monuments mountain Narragansets nature neighborhood neighboring never night noble observed old English old gentleman once passed Philip poet POKANOKET poor pride quiet Rip Van Winkle round rural scene seated seemed Shakspeare Sleepy Hollow solemn sometimes song sorrow soul sound spirit squire story sweet tender thing thought tion tomb tower trees tribes turn village Wampanoags wandering Wassail Westminster Abbey whole wild William Walworth window Winkle worthy writers young
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Страница 47 - On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes. It was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft and breasting the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip. "I have not slept here all night.
Страница 54 - The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my good woman ? " asked he.
Страница 45 - He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard.
Страница 50 - It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog, that looked like "Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed. —
Страница 219 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Страница 55 - He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson," the first discoverer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the Halfmoon...
Страница 53 - Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too.
Страница 51 - Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap...
Страница 38 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country.
Страница 300 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.