| 1822 - 764 str.
...Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — • Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite...abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings... | |
| 1822 - 298 str.
...all, Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite...abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings... | |
| John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 str.
...infinite host of heaven, , Are ginning on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the... | |
| Vicesimus Knox - 1825 - 426 str.
[ Omlouváme se, ale obsah této stránky je nepřístupný. ] | |
| 1825 - 426 str.
...round Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite...abodes of death. Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. So -l..ni thou... | |
| 1826 - 438 str.
[ Omlouváme se, ale obsah této stránky je nepřístupný. ] | |
| 1829 - 514 str.
...infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the...and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead... | |
| 1829 - 642 str.
...all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite...sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages — all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings... | |
| 1829 - 436 str.
...all, Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite...abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings... | |
| |