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Adelaide ALBERT TOWN amongst animal appearance attempt beautiful BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH black fellow bone bright bullocky Bunyip cabbage-tree hats cabin Cape Verd Captain Sturt CHAPTER character clouds colonists colony colour commenced completely Crocodile Rock dark dead calm deck distance dogs doubt emigration England everything excitement extent eyes face favourable feeling flock forecastle going head heavy horizon hour kangaroo kangaroo rats King William Street labour land light look mate ment miles mind morning natives nature never night object occasion occasionally occupied opossum passed person plenty Port Port Adelaide rain replied round sails Sandy scarcely scene scrub seemed sheep sheep dog shepherd ship shore side sight sound South Australia stand steward strange street Sydney taffrail tell thought Timor pony tion to-day tone town trees vessel voice voyage walk wind wools yards
Strana 57 - Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.
Strana 57 - TELL me, ye winged winds, That round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot Where mortals weep no more— •=Some lone and pleasant dell, Some valley in the West, Where, free from toil and pain, The weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered,
Strana 58 - And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded —
Strana 57 - Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs ; Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer —
Strana 5 - Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise. No marvel that the lady wept : there was no land on earth She loved like that dear land, although she owed it not her birth. It was her mother's land — the land of childhood and of friends ; It was the land where she had found for all her griefs amends ; The land where her dead husband slept; the land where she had known The tranquil convent's hushed repose and the splendours of a throne.
Strana 58 - Tell me, my secret soul, Oh! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place From sorrow, sin, and death ? Is there no happy spot Where mortals may be blest, Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest ? Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whispered, —
Strana 5 - No marvel that the lady wept — it was the land of France — The chosen home of chivalry — the garden of romance ! The past was bright, like those dear hills so far behind her bark ; The future, like the gathering night, was ominous and dark ! One gaze again — one long, last gaze — "Adieu, fair France, to thee ! " The breeze comes forth — she is alone on the unconscious sea.
Strana 33 - ... wind to heave the curling billow; The streamers droop, And trembling stoop, Like boughs, that crown the weeping willow From off the shore Is heard the roar Of waves in softest motion rolling ; The twinkling stars, And whispering airs Are all to peace the heart controlling. The moon is bright, Her ring of light, In silver, pales the blue of Heaven, Or tints with gold, Where lightly rolled, How calm and clear The silent air' How smooth and still the glassy ocean! While stars above Seem lamps of...
Strana 130 - ... and when they -wept I sorrowed. Suddenly the scene changed; and I was conscious of a number of hideous black faces crowding round me with hostile intent, demanding tobacco. Wherever I retreated they followed ; and still the sound of their voices came ringing in my ears with the words " bacca !" " bacca !
Strana 178 - ... this reviewer about the Australian economy: he considered wool to be almost the worst product imaginable upon which to construct a national life: The tropical products, the mineral products of South America, the far more valuable industry and activity in fisheries, shipping, and trade of the Northern American States, are such a staple basis of a colonial prosperity. Wool is not. It is the worst product a new colony could have turned its capital and attention to, because the production of wool...