The Wept of Wish-ton-wish: A Tale, Volume 2

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Carey, Lea, & Blanchard, 1836 - King Philip's War, 1675-1676
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Page 106 - Were such things here, as we do speak about? Or have we eaten of the insane root, That takes the reason prisoner ? Macb.
Page 4 - Co. of the said district, have deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following, to wit : " Tadeuskund, the Last King of the Lenape. An Historical Tale." In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States...
Page 223 - Or midst the chase, on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell : Each lonely scene shall thee restore ; For thee the tear be duly shed ; Beloved, till life can charm no more ; And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
Page 124 - FIdele's grassy tomb, Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew : The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
Page 36 - Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book ; he hath not eat paper, as it were ; he hath not drunk ink : his intellect is not replenished ; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts...
Page 5 - God hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and read comes by nature 2 Watch.
Page 80 - AND the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the Lord : and the Lord delivered them into the hand of Midian seven years.
Page 87 - Let burning coals fall upon them: let them be cast into the fire; into deep pits, that they rise not up again.
Page 87 - But mine eyes are unto thee, O GOD the LORD : in thee is my trust; leave not my soul destitute.
Page 71 - With all the forms, and hues, and airs, That haunt her sweetest spot. We gaze upon thy calm pure sphere, And read of Heaven's eternal year. Oh, when, amid the throng of men, The heart grows sick of hollow mirth, How willingly we turn us then Away from this cold earth, And look into thy azure breast, For seats of innocence and rest ! "I CANNOT FORGET WITH WHAT FERVID DEVOTION.

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