Early Western Travels, 1748-1846: A Series of Annotated Reprints of Some of the Best and Rarest Contemporary Volumes of Travel, Descriptive of the Aborigines and Social and Economic Conditions in the Middle and Far West, During the Period of Early American Settlement, Volumen8

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Reuben Gold Thwaites
A. H. Clark Company, 1904
 

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Página 342 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Página 96 - Clerk's Office. BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the ninth day of September, AD 1818, and in the forty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America, Samuel Swett of the said district has deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the words following, to wit : Historical and topographical Sketch of Bunker Hill Battle, with a Plan.
Página 294 - Why hast thou then broken down her hedges, So that all they which pass by the way do pluck her ? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, < And the wild beast of the field doth devour it.
Página 98 - BBOWN, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the words following, to wit : " Sertorius : or, the Roman Patriot.
Página 295 - Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the judgment of the Lord.
Página 194 - He giveth snow like wool : He scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels : Who can stand before his cold? He sendeth out his word, and melteth them: He causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.
Página 294 - Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.
Página 233 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed. And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Página 316 - Some say, he bid his angels turn askance The poles of earth, twice ten degrees and more, From the sun's axle ; they with labour push'd Oblique the centric globe.

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