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Full Online Book HomeAuthor William H. G. KingstonPage 29
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The Boatswain's Son: A Tale Of The Sea The Boatswain's Son: A Tale Of The Sea

The Boatswain's Son: A Tale Of The Sea
It was the memorable 1st of June. A sea fight ever to be renowned in history was raging between the fleets of England and France. The great guns were thundering and roaring, musketry was rattling, round-shot, and chain-shot, and grape, and langridge, and missiles of every description, invented for carrying on the bloody game of war, were hissing through the air, crashing against the sides of the ships, rending them asunder, shattering the tall masts and spars, sending their death-dealing fragments flying around, and hurling to the deck, mangled and bleeding, the gallant seamen as they stood at their... Short Stories - Post by : stormpay - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1304

Hymn To The Night Hymn To The Night

Hymn To The Night
I heard the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls! I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of... Poems - Post by : dtyler - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1547

A Psalm Of Life. What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist A Psalm Of Life. What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist

A Psalm Of Life. What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers. And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow... Poems - Post by : moneytre - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1512

The Reaper And The Flowers The Reaper And The Flowers

The Reaper And The Flowers
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves;... Poems - Post by : bowman - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1934

The Light Of Stars The Light Of Stars

The Light Of Stars
The night is come, but not too soon; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven, But the cold light of stars; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars. Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? Oh, no! from that blue tent above,... Poems - Post by : fergalbyrne - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1603

Footsteps Of Angels Footsteps Of Angels

Footsteps Of Angels
When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful firelight Dance upon the parlour wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once... Poems - Post by : CONSTANCE - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1436

The Beleaguered City The Beleaguered City

The Beleaguered City
I have read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead. White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river... Poems - Post by : Eliot_Proud - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 3212

Midnight Mass For The Dying Year Midnight Mass For The Dying Year

Midnight Mass For The Dying Year
Yes, the Year is growing old, And his eye is pale and bleared! Death, with frosty hand and cold, Plucks the old man by the beard, Sorely,--sorely! The leaves are falling, falling, Solemnly and slow; Caw! caw! the rooks are calling, It is a sound of woe, A sound of woe!... Poems - Post by : tomcat - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1754

Hymn Of The Moravian Nuns Of Bethlehem, At The Consecration Of Pulaski's Banner Hymn Of The Moravian Nuns Of Bethlehem, At The Consecration Of Pulaski's Banner

Hymn Of The Moravian Nuns Of Bethlehem, At The Consecration Of Pulaski's Banner
When the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled head; And the censer burning swung, Where, before the altar, hung The blood-red banner, that with prayer Had been consecrated there. And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while, Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.... Poems - Post by : Adetola - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 2179

King Christian. A National Song Of Denmark King Christian. A National Song Of Denmark

King Christian. A National Song Of Denmark
TRANSLATION. FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. King Christian stood by the lofty mast In mist and smoke; His sword was hammering so fast, Through Gothic helm and brain it passed; Then sank each hostile hulk and mast, In mist and smoke. "Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can! Who braves of Denmark's Christian The stroke?" Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, Now is the hour! He hoisted his... Poems - Post by : lombadas2 - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1094

The Celestial Pilot. From Dante's Purgatorio, Ii The Celestial Pilot. From Dante's Purgatorio, Ii

The Celestial Pilot. From Dante's Purgatorio, Ii
Translation.THE CELESTIAL PILOT. FROM DANTE'S PURGATORIO, II And now, behold! as at the approach of morning Through the gross vapours, Mars grows fiery red Down in the west upon the ocean floor. Appeared to me,--may I again behold it! A light along the sea, so swiftly coming, Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled. And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little Mine eyes, that I might question my conductor, Again I saw it brighter grown and larger. Thereafter, on all sides of it, appeared I knew... Poems - Post by : alesf - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 3509

Song Of The Bell. From The German Song Of The Bell. From The German

Song Of The Bell. From The German
Translation.Bell! thou soundest merrily, When the bridal party To the church doth hie! Bell! thou soundest solemnly, When, on Sabbath morning, Fields deserted lie! Bell! thou soundest merrily; Tellest thou at evening, Bed-time draweth nigh! Bell! thou soundest mournfully; Tellest thou the bitter Parting hath gone by! Say! how canst thou mourn? How canst thou rejoice? Thou art but metal dull! And yet all our sorrowings,... Poems - Post by : Bogdan_Ionita - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1034

Happy Jack (tale Of The Sea) Happy Jack (tale Of The Sea)

Happy Jack (tale Of The Sea)
CHAPTER ONE. THE "NAIAD." I GO TO SEA IN RATHER UNROMANTIC SURROUNDINGS. Have any of you made a passage on board a steamer between London and Leith? If you have, you will have seen no small number of brigs and brigantines, with sails of all tints, from doubtful white to decided black--some deeply=laden, making their way to the southward, others with their sides high out of the water, heeling over to the slightest breeze, steering north. On board one of those delectable craft, a brig called the _Naiad_, I found myself when about fourteen summers had passed over my head.... Short Stories - Post by : brynjar - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 3340

A Strange Discovery (tale Of The Sea) A Strange Discovery (tale Of The Sea)

A Strange Discovery (tale Of The Sea)
The captain of the _Juno_ took every precaution to prevent her being surprised by the Indians. Boarding nettings were triced up round the ship every night, and the watch on deck had arms ready at hand. None of the natives were allowed to come on board, and only two or three canoes were permitted alongside at a time. We judged by their manner, though they were willing enough to trade, that they had already heard of what had occurred to the northward. Having got our wood and water on board, we again put to sea, cruising in various... Short Stories - Post by : CircleCity - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 2943

I Reach Home And Think I Have Had Enough Of The Sea I Reach Home And Think I Have Had Enough Of The Sea

I Reach Home And Think I Have Had Enough Of The Sea
It was the early summer when one evening I came in sight of my home. The windows and doors were open. Without hesitation I walked up the steps, forgetting the effect which my sudden appearance might produce on my family. One of my youngest sisters was in the passage. I beckoned to her. "What do you want?" she asked; "you must not stop here; go away." "What! don't you know me?" I asked. "No," she answered; "who are you?" "Jack--your brother Jack," I answered. On this she ran off into the drawing-room, and I... Short Stories - Post by : DonPaul - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 988

The 'san Fiorenzo' And Her Captain (tale Of The Sea) The "san Fiorenzo" And Her Captain (tale Of The Sea)

The 'san Fiorenzo' And Her Captain (tale Of The Sea)
NARRATED BY ADMIRAL M--. There was not a happier ship in the service, when I joined her towards the end of the year 1794, than the gallant _San Fiorenzo_, Captain Sir Harry Burrard Neale, and those were not days when ships were reckoned little paradises afloat, even by enthusiastic misses or sanguine young midshipmen. They were generally quite the other thing. The crews of many ships found it that other thing, and the officers, of course, found it so likewise. If the men are not contented, the officers must be uncomfortable; and, at the same time, I will say,... Short Stories - Post by : David_Eck - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1868

Orlo And Era: A Tale Of The African Slave Trade Orlo And Era: A Tale Of The African Slave Trade

Orlo And Era: A Tale Of The African Slave Trade
There exists an extensive district on the west coast of Africa, about forty miles to the north of the far-famed river Niger, known as the Yoruba country. Sixty years ago it was one of the most thickly populated and flourishing parts of equatorial Africa, the inhabitants having also attained to a considerable amount of civilisation, and made fair progress in many industrial arts. Then came those dreadful wars, carried on by the more powerful and cruel chiefs, for the purpose of making slaves to sell to the white traders, who carried them away to toil in the plantations of North... Short Stories - Post by : ceejay - Date : March 2011 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 924

My First Cruise My First Cruise

My First Cruise
CHAPTER 1.NOTES FROM PRINGLE RUSHFORTH'S SEA LOG.A LETTER TO BROTHER HARRY, AT ETON.It has become a reality, dear Harry. I feel very strange--a curious sensation in the throat, just as if I was going to cry, and yet it is exactly what I have been longing for. You know better than any one how I had set my heart on going to sea, and yet I thought that I should never manage it. But, after all, here I am, really and truly a midshipman; at least a volunteer of the first class, as we are called now.... Short Stories - Post by : roadking - Date : December 2010 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 2948

The Beautiful Gate The Beautiful Gate

The Beautiful Gate
One morning, by break of day, old Josiah, who lived in the little cottage he had built, on the borders of the Great Forest, found his wife awake long before him--indeed she had scarcely closed her eyes that night; and she was ready to speak the moment his eyes opened; for she had promised their dear Tiny, their only child, that she would have a private talk with his father. So she said in a low, but distinct voice, as though she were talking to herself:"I have nursed him, and watched over him year after year. He has been... Short Stories - Post by : Peter_Yexley - Date : December 2010 - Author : William H. G. Kingston - Read : 1612