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favourite standard of the eminent writer (Carlyle), the rule of the best men, the born heroes and captains
"O my brave soul! O farther, farther sail! O daring joy, but safe!
) For that, O God—be it my latest word — here on my knees, Old, poor, and paralysed—I thank thee.
, I yield my ships to .
"My hands, my limbs, grow nerveless; My brain feels rack'd, bewilder'd; Let the old timbers part I will
though momentary view of them, and then of their course on and on southeast, till gradually fading—(my
Moreover, just as his one successful lyrical poem, "My Captain," is enough to disprove all his theories
bit of pathos—indubitably human—in my eye, confess now am I not a man and a brother?"
place, with my own day, here."
my dwell- dwelling .)"
'O the life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh.'
my South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
my South!O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! good and evil! O all dear to me!"
"The later years of the last century," he tells us, "found the Van Velsor family, my mother's side, living
My father's side—probably the fifth generation from the first English arrivals in New England—were at
"In February, 1873," he tells us, "I was stricken down by paralysis, gave up my desk, and emigrated to
And it is to my life here that I, perhaps, owe partial recovery (a sort of second wind, or semi-renewal
young hickory sapling out there—to sway and yield to its tough-limber upright stem—haply to get into my
Sometimes I took up my quarters in the hospital, and slept or watch'd there several nights in succession
excitements and physical deprivations and lamentable sights,) and, of course, the most profound lesson of my