 | Travers Twiss - 1846 - 304 страници
...Mr. Washington Irving has pronounced to be amongst the most distinguished of American poets : — " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,...Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." If we adopt the more extensive use of the term Oregon territory, as applied to the entire country intermediate... | |
 | George Vandenhoff - 1847 - 396 страници
...shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom....woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save of his own dashings ; yet, — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The... | |
 | William Cullen Bryant - 1847 - 520 страници
...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... | |
 | Salem Town - 1848 - 300 страници
...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....of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep—"the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the... | |
 | 1848 - 272 страници
...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 Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hear no sounds... | |
 | 1848 - 272 страници
...but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — take the wings Of morning, and the Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hear no sounds Save its own dashings ; yet the dead are there. And millions in those solitudes, since... | |
 | 1848 - 276 страници
...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... | |
 | 1849 - 472 страници
...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....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... | |
 | William Cullen Bryant - 1847 - 390 страници
...lapse of ages. All that tread s ty~^ cvv S The globe are but a handful to the tribes ' c " ? J1 ^ C. 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... | |
 | Truman Rickard, Hiram Orcutt - 1850 - 130 страници
...All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 50 Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose...there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first 55 The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep, — the dead reign there alone.... | |
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Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 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... 
