The American Monthly Magazine, Volume 6

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M. Bancroft, J. Wiley, and G. and C. and H. Carvill, 1835

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Page 70 - The elfin cast a glance around, As he lighted down from his courser toad, Then round his breast his wings he wound, And close to the river's brink he strode ; He sprang on a rock, he breathed a prayer...
Page 67 - Some to the sun their insect wings unfold, Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold; Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight, Their fluid bodies half dissolved in light.
Page 74 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
Page 68 - Your jailer a spider huge and grim, Amid the carrion bodies to lie, Of the worm, and the bug, and the murdered fly; These it had been your lot to bear, Had a stain been found on the earthly fair. Now list, and mark our mild decree— Fairy, this your doom must be: VIII.
Page 68 - The winds are whist, and the owl is still, The bat in the shelvy rock is hid, And naught is heard on the lonely hill But the cricket's chirp and the answer shrill Of the gauze-winged katy-did; And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will Who mourns unseen, and ceaseless sings, Ever a note of wail and wo, Till morning spreads her rosy wings, And earth and sky in her glances glow.
Page 68 - The stars are on the moving stream, And fling, as its ripples gently flow, A burnished length of wavy beam In an eel-like, spiral line below...
Page 71 - They crouched them close in the darksome shade, They quaked all o'er with awe and fear, For they had felt the blue-bent blade, And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear ; Many a time, on a summer's night, When the sky was clear and the moon was bright, They had been roused from the haunted ground...
Page 67 - Tis the middle watch of a summer's night,— The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright; Naught is seen in the vault on high But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, And the flood which rolls its milky hue, A river of light on the welkin blue. The moon looks down on old Cro'nest; She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast, And seems his huge gray form to throw In a silver cone on the wave below.
Page 69 - If the spray-bead gem be won, The stain of thy wing is washed away; But another errand must be done Ere thy crime be lost for aye : Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, — Thou must re-illume its spark. Mount thy steed and spur him high To the heaven's blue canopy; And when thou seest a shooting star, Follow it fast, and follow it far — The last faint spark of its burning train Shall light the elfin lamp again. Thou hast heard our sentence, fay; Hence ! to the water-side, away...
Page 70 - Thither he ran, and he bent him low, He heaved at the stern and he heaved at the bow. And he pushed her over the yielding sand, Till he came to the verge of the haunted land. She was as lovely a...

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