Continental Adventures: A Novel, Tom 1

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Hurst, Robinson, 1826 - 400
 

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Strona 3 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, meet nurse for a poetic child, • land of brown heath and shaggy wood, land of the mountain and the flood, land of my sires!
Strona 180 - IX. 0 how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X.
Strona 152 - Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ! But soft ! but soft ! aside : here comes the king.
Strona 180 - O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy impart.
Strona 160 - Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; Yes, but for these, and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, The first, last look by death revealed...
Strona 143 - Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O : Her 'prentice han' she try'd on man, An
Strona 352 - The natural music of the mountain reed — For here the patriarchal days are not A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd; My soul would drink those echoes.
Strona 352 - The mists boil up around the glaciers ; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell, Whose every wave breaks on a living shore Heap'd with the damn'd like pebbles.
Strona 220 - THE King of France, with twenty thousand men, Went up the hill, and then came down again ; The King of Spain, with twenty thousand more, Climbed the same hill the French had climbed before.
Strona x - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuff's out his vacant garments with his form ; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.

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