Our Sea-girt Isle. English Scenes and Scenery Delineated

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1882 - 276 strani

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Stran 33 - His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Stran 93 - Lo ! on a narrow neck of land, 'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, Secure, insensible ; A point of time, a moment's space, Removes me to that heavenly place, Or shuts me up in hell.
Stran 34 - Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green : So, to the Jews, old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.
Stran 250 - I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee: I saw thee every day; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! So like, so very like, was day to day! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there; It trembled, but it never passed away.
Stran 246 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness...
Stran 144 - Stand, never overlook'd, our favourite elms, That screen the herdsman's solitary hut ; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; Displaying on...
Stran 144 - How oft upon yon eminence our pace Has slackened to a pause, and we have borne The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, While admiration, feeding at the eye, And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene.
Stran 246 - It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud The village clock tolled six, - I wheeled about, Proud and exulting like an untired horse That cares not for his home. All shod with steel, We hissed along the polished ice in games Confederate, imitative of the chase" And woodland pleasures, - the resounding horn, The pack loud chiming, and the hunted hare.
Stran 160 - Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams ; Wide-stretching from the hall in whose kind haunt The hospitable Genius lingers still, To where the broken landscape, by degrees Ascending, roughens into rigid hills ; O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.
Stran 209 - Albeit labouring for a scanty band Of white-robed Scholars only — this immense And glorious Work of fine intelligence ! Give all thou canst ; high Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely-calculated less or more...

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