Notes and Recollections of an Angler: Rambles Among the Mountains, Valleys, and Solitudes of Wales

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Hamilton, Adams, & Company, 1860 - 254 стор.
 

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Сторінка 96 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Сторінка 232 - If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget, If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills! — No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
Сторінка 101 - Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering forest feathered o'er His ruined sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.
Сторінка 20 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? — The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide, The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; The hum of bees ; the linnet's lay of love ; And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Сторінка 165 - Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair and placid; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round.
Сторінка 116 - Or mosque of eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lacked they many a banner fair; For, from their shivered brows displayed. Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen, The briar-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west- wind's summer sighs.
Сторінка 147 - I CLIMB'D the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, Lakes and mountains beneath me gleam'd misty and wide ; All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling, And starting around me the echoes replied.
Сторінка 116 - The western waves of ebbing day Roll'd o'er the glen their level way ; Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below...
Сторінка 174 - AST thon left thy blue course in heaven, golden-haired son of the sky! The west has opened its gates ; the bed of thy repose is there. The waves come to behold thy beauty. They lift their trembling heads. They see thee lovely in thy sleep; they shrink away with fear. Rest, in thy shadowy cave, O sun! let thy return be in joy.
Сторінка 137 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters ; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse : And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.

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