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Página 121 - Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below, LXIII.
Página 139 - Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries! Happiest they of human race, To whom God has granted grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, and force the way; And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
Página 138 - And then there was a little isle, Which in my very face did smile, The only one in view; A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze. And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue.
Página 139 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need — The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me, — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Página 50 - The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, Nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
Página 115 - WHEN shall the voice of singing Flow joyfully along ? When hill and valley, ringing With one triumphant song, Proclaim the contest ended, And him, who once was slain, Again to earth descended, In righteousness to reign ? 2 Then from the craggy mountains The sacred shout shall fly ; And shady vales and fountains Shall echo the reply : High tower and lowly dwelling Shall send the chorus round, All hallelujah swelling In one eternal sound.
Página 137 - Returning where my walk begun, Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers' graves without a sod; For if I thought with heedless tread My step profaned their lowly bed, My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart fell blind and sick.
Página 41 - Was it a soothing or a mournful thought, Amid this scene of slaughter as we stood, Where armies had with recent fury fought, To mark how gentle Nature still pursued Her quiet course, as if she took no care For what her noblest work had suffer'd there.
Página 128 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Página 48 - ... good-night. So we rode home with him. We never stayed anywhere away from home all night that we 'can remember. When Grandmother came downstairs the first time she was too weak to walk, so she sat on each step till she got down. When Grandfather saw her, he smiled and said to us : " When she will, she will, you may depend on't ; and when she won't she won't, and that's the end on't.