Excursions and Adventures in New South Wales: With Pictures of Squatting and of Life in the Bush : an Account of the Climate, Productions, and Natural History of the Colony, and the Manners and Customs of the Natives, with Advice to Immigrants, Etc, Volume 1

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W. Shoberl, 1851 - 294 pages

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Page 295 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Page 4 - Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him: but weep sore for him that goeth away: for he shall return no more, nor see his native country.
Page 145 - Under these circumstances, it is evident that the same law cannot be justly and equally administered to the two races, who are continually thrown into hostile contact on the frontiers of the colony. The gun is the only law the black fears: the only power that deters him from murder and plunder; and the only available administrator of punishment for his offences. Those who denounce the squatter as a murderer and land-robber, it has been well said in "Kennedy's Account of Texas," "take no thought of...
Page 56 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds. Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly * death itself awakes...
Page 303 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Page 46 - Still must I on.; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
Page 46 - The ship, half swallow'd in the black profound. With ceaseless hazard and fatigue opprest, Dismay and anguish every heart possest ; For while, with...
Page 43 - I could be well mov'd, if I were as you ; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true fix'd, and resting quality, There is no fellow in the firmament.
Page 217 - Hover in the darkened air ; Like a torrent dashing loud, Bringing famine and despair. And often o'er the level waste The stifling hot winds fly ; Down falls the swain with trembling haste, The gasping cattle die.

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