Concerning the officers of the whale-craft, this seems as good a place as any to set down a little domestic peculiarity on ship-board, arising from the existence of the harpooneer class...

_The Return of the Sire de Nesle… A.D. 16 My towers at last! These rovings… Their thirst is slaked in larger d… The yearning infinite recoils,

Where the wings of a sunny Dome e… I saw a Banner in gladsome air– Starry, like Berenice’s Hair– Afloat in broadened bravery there; With undulating long-drawn flow,

IN relating to my friends various passages of my sea-goings I have at times had occasion to allude to that singular people the ‘Gees, sometimes as casual acquaintances, sometimes as shi...

It was during the more pleasant weather, that in due rotation with the other seamen my first mast-head came round. In most American whalemen the mast-heads are manned almost simultaneou...

What grand irregular thunder, thought I, standing on my hearthstone among the Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed overhead and crashed down among the valleys, every bolt ...

Already we are boldly launched upon the deep; but soon we shall be lost in its unshored, harbourless immensities. Ere that come to pass; ere the Pequod’s weedy hull rolls side by side w...

Ay, man is manly. Here you see The warrior-carriage of the head, And brave dilation of the frame; And lighting all, the soul that le… In Spottsylvania’s charge to vict…

Returning to the Spouter-Inn from the Chapel, I found Queequeg there quite alone; he having left the Chapel before the benediction some time. He was sitting on a bench before the fire, ...

In shards the sylvan vases lie, Their links of dance undone, And brambles wither by thy brim, Choked fountain of the sun! The spider in the laurel spins,

Sailors there are of the gentlest… Yet strong, like every goodly thin… The discipline of arms refines, And the wave gives tempering. The damasked blade its beam can fl…

Did all the lets and bars appear To every just or larger end, Whence should come the trust and c… Youth must its ignorant impulse le… Age finds place in the rear.

Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill In prime of morn and May, Recall ye how McClellan’s men Here stood at bay? While deep within yon forest dim

YOU see," said poet Blandmour, enthusiastically—as some forty years ago we walked along the road in a soft, moist snowfall, toward the end of March—"you see, my friend, that the blessed...