Gan-Eden: Or, Pictures of Cuba

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John P. Jewett, 1854 - 235ÆäÀÌÁö

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147 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... royal palm, become forest aisles of surpassing beauty. The height of the palms is immense, many of them rising more than a hundred and twenty feet in the air. Overtopping thus the other trees, their sweeping noble arches do not exclude the sunlight, which pours through the intervals as through the windows of a cathedral, and illuminates the green solemnity of the majestic colonnades. " The cottage of the cafetal was an elegantly proportioned little tropical mansion, cool, dark, floored with marble,,...
208 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... with new life and joy ; the beaming sun, His glories softened by translucent clouds, Lends a new lustre to the grove and plain, And wakes them all to joyous spring again. My happy land ! thou favored land of God, Where rest his mildest looks, his kindliest smiles, O, never more from thy beloved soil May cruel fortune tear me ; but be thine The latest light that on these eyes shall shine ! How sweet, dear love, to listen to the rain That patters softly on our humble home ; To hear the wild winds...
214 ÆäÀÌÁö - Merciful God ! how should I thee deceive ? Let thy eternal wisdom search my soul ! Bowed down to earth by falsehood's base control, Her stainless wings not now the air may cleave. Send forth thine hosts of truth, and set her free ! Stay thou, O Lord ! the oppressor's victory. Forbid it, Lord, by that most free outpouring Of thine own precious blood for every brother Of our lost race, and by thy Holy Mother, So full of grief, so loving, so adoring, Who, clothed in sorrow, followed thee afar, Weeping...
209 ÆäÀÌÁö - was inspired with the noble enthusiasm of accomplishing a great social mission, and possessed of faith and hope, selected, for the subject of his songs, moral or philosophical ideas.
214 ÆäÀÌÁö - But thou, grief-smitten, cease thy mortal weeping, And let thy soul her wonted peace regain ; I fall for right, and thoughts of thee are sweeping Across my lyre, to wake its dying strain, — A strain of joy and gladness, free, unfailing, All-glorious and holy, pure, divine, And innocent, unconscious as the wailing I uttered at my birth ; and I resign, Even now, my life ; even now, descending slowly, Faith's mantle folds me to my slumbers holy. Mother, farewell ! God keep thee, and for ever ! On...
217 ÆäÀÌÁö - Napoleon, to Christ, and to William Tell, are three jewels of our literature ; the conclusion of the last is a noble cry of indignation : — That even the insensate elements Fling back the despot's ashes from their breasts. It is equally surprising to see the facility with which he manages the tenderest themes, and some of his compositions touch the deepest emotions of the soul. My task would be endless, should I attempt to extract all the beauties of these poems ; for if there are very few that...
208 ÆäÀÌÁö - The crushing yoke, the wasting fetters wear, — If to the people this be Heaven's decree, To clasp their shame, nor struggle to be free, From truth so base my heart indignant turns, With freedom's frenzy all my spirit burns, — That rage which ruled the Roman's soul of fire, And filled thy heart, Columbia's patriot sire ! Cuba ! thou still shalt rise, as pure, as bright, As thy free air, — as full of living light ; Free as the waves that foam around thy strands, Kissing thy shores, and curling...
205 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... Heredia stands first among the poets of his country in point of place, and among the first in point of time, — the mournful Zequeira and the gay Desval alone preceding him. The son of a patriot, whose patriotism drove him into exile, Heredia, born in Santiago de Cuba, on the last day of the year 1803, was carried in his childhood to Mexico. There, at the age of sixteen, he lost his father, and with his mother and the rest of his family returned to Havana. Admitted as an advocate in the Supreme...
215 ÆäÀÌÁö - Farewell, world, ever pitiless to me ! Fire — here ! " raising his hand to his temples. The last tones of his voice were lost in the report of the muskets, this time more mercifully aimed. The works of Placido were suppressed by a viceregal edict, and his name was covered with official infamy; but by the inhabitants of Cuba the memory of this true son of the people will always be gratefully...

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