Wandering Among the High Alps

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R. Bentley, 1856 - Всего страниц: 384
 

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Стр. 348 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD!
Стр. 202 - Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, And spirit patient, pious, proud, and free ; Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts ; Thy days of health, and nights of sleep ; thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless ; hopes Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green turf, And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph ; This do I see — and then I look within — It matters not — my soul was scorch'd already ! C.
Стр. 108 - Upon a bed of heath ; full many a spot Of hidden beauty have I chanced to espy Among the mountains ; never one like this ; So lonesome, and so perfectly secure; Not melancholy ; no, for it is green, And bright, and fertile, furnished in itself With the few needful things that life requires. In rugged arms how softly does it lie, How tenderly protected...
Стр. 96 - But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow> Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad.
Стр. 364 - Now, before passing from this subject, a few words may not be out of place as to the fact that, for some little time past, a certain waning of enthusiasm is observable among the Congress workers.
Стр. 67 - Had perished miserably. Side by side, Within they lie, a mournful company, All in their shrouds, no earth to cover them; Their features full of life yet motionless In the broad day, nor soon to suffer change, Though the barred windows, barred against the wolf, Are always open...
Стр. iii - My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing Flit o'er the herbless granite...
Стр. 1 - The glaciers creep Like snakes that watch their prey, from their far fountains, Slow rolling on; there, many a precipice, Frost and the Sun in scorn of mortal power Have piled: dome, pyramid, and pinnacle, A city of death, distinct with many a tower And wall impregnable of beaming ice. Yet not a city, but a flood of ruin Is there, that from the boundaries of the sky Rolls its perpetual stream...
Стр. 228 - The giant windows' blazon'd fires, The height, the space, the gloom, the glory! A mount of marble, a hundred spires! 1 climb'd the roofs at break of day Sun-smitten Alps before me lay. I stood among the silent statues, And statued pinnacles, mute as they. How faintly-flush'd, how phantom-fair, Was Monte Rosa, hanging there A thousand shadowy-pencill'd valleys And snowy dells in a golden air.
Стр. 87 - With its dumb cataracts and streams of ice, A motionless array of mighty waves, Five rivers broad and vast...

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