A Handbook of New England: An Annual Publication

E. Sargent, 1916 - 843 páginas

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Página 126 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...
Página 689 - MASTER of human destinies am I ! Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate Deserts and seas remote, and passing by Hovel and mart and palace — soon or late I knock, unbidden, once at every gate! If sleeping, wake — if feasting, rise before I turn away. It is the hour of fate, And they who follow me reach every state Mortals desire, and conquer every foe Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, Seek me in vain...
Página 21 - God and of one another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute, and frame such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, constitutions, and offices from time to time as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the Colony...
Página 539 - As you are now so once was I; As I am now so you must be, Prepare for death and follow me.
Página 608 - It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin, but my elder brothers and sisters were born in a log cabin raised amid the snow-drifts of New Hampshire, at a period so early that, when the smoke rose first from its rude chimney and curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence of a white man's habitation between it and the settlements on the rivers of Canada.
Página 679 - I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide ! And the dead captains, as they lay In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay Where they in battle died. And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Página 636 - ... Here I have written many tales, — many that have been burned to ashes, many that doubtless deserved the same fate. This claims to be called a haunted chamber, for thousands upon thousands of visions have appeared to me in it ; and some few of them have become visible to the world. If ever I should have a biographer, he ought to make great mention of this chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my lonely youth was wasted here...
Página 333 - I3th 1775 by the hands of Cruel Ministerial tools of Georg ye 3d in the Corthouse at a 11 a Clock at Night in the 22d year of his Age. Here William French his Body lies For Murder his blood for Vengeance cries King Georg the third his Tory crew tha with a bawl his head Shot threw For Liberty and his Countrys Good He Lost his Life his Dearest blood.
Página 38 - He comes with a list of ancient Saxon, Norman, and Celtic names, and strews them up and down this river, — Framingham, Sudbury, Bedford, Carlisle, Billerica, Chelmsford, — and this is New Angle-land, and these are the new West Saxons, whom the red men call, not Angle-ish or English, but Yengeese, and so at last they are known for Yankees.
Página 104 - Born in America, in Europe bred, In Afric traveled, and in Asia wed, Where long he lived and thrived ; at London dead. Much good, some ill he did ; so hope all's even, And that his soul through Mercy's gone to Heaven. You that survive and read, take care, For this most certain exit to prepare ; For only the actions of the Just Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.

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