Running Sketches of Men and Places: In England, France, Germany, Belgium, and Scotland

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J. C. Riker, 1851 - 346 páginas
 

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Página 151 - Seemed with its piercing melody to reach The soul, and in mysterious unison Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love.
Página 204 - And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind, Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, Or holding dark communion with the cloud. There was a day when they were young and proud, Banners on high, and battles pass'd below; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud, And those which waved are shredless dust ere now, And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow.
Página 204 - There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
Página 206 - Thine is a scene alike where souls united, Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray ; And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.
Página 206 - Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise ; More mighty spots may rise — more glaring shine, But none unite in one attaching maze The brilliant, fair, and soft, — the glories of old days, LXI.
Página 202 - As it flows down from the distant ridges of the Alps, through fertile regions into the open sea, so it comes down from remote antiquity, associated in every age with momentous events.in the history of the neighbouring nations.
Página 204 - What want these outlaws conquerors should have ? But History's purchased page to call them great ? A wider space, an ornamented grave? Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave.
Página 340 - IN some wild forest shade, Under some spreading oak, or waving pine, Or old elm, festooned with the gadding vine, Let me be laid.
Página 206 - The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen. The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between, The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been In mockery of man's art ; and these withal A race of faces happy as the scene, Whose fertile bounties here extend to all, Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near them fall.
Página 64 - I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair ; I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ; I will sit on the shore where the hurricane blows, And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes ; I will weep for a season, on bitterness fed, For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ; But they died not by hunger, or lingering decay — The steel of the white man hath swept them away.

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