Scenes and Impressions Abroad

Couverture
Carter, 1860 - 340 pages
 

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Page 131 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Page 278 - THREE Poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; The next in majesty •, In both the last. The force of Nature could no further go ; To make a third, she joined the former two.
Page 267 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Page 131 - He heard it, but he heeded not ; his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away : He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay ; There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
Page 219 - Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Page 155 - The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, and saying; Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen and purple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls ! For in one hour so great riches is come to nought.
Page 228 - As with a wedge. But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity. 0 dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought; entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
Page 270 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 221 - Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 228 - Sovran Blanc ? The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black ; An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it As with a wedge ! But when I look...

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