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Page 264 - Welcome as waters unkissed by the summers Are the voices of bell-birds to thirsty far-comers. When fiery December sets foot in the forest, And the need of the wayfarer presses the sorest, Pent in the ridges for ever and ever, The bell-birds direct him to spring and to river, With ring and with ripple, like runnels whose torrents Are toned by the pebbles and leaves in the currents.
Page 243 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Page 292 - I doubt whether we could do much work on them and the nardoo alone. Nothing now but the greatest good luck can save any of us ; and as for myself, I may live four or five days if the weather continues warm. My pulse is at forty-eight, and very weak, and my legs and arms are nearly skin and bone. I can only look out, like Mr. Micawber,
Page 253 - Far above shot up red splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and shivered into myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak of sunlit snow, traced down their chasms like a line of forked lightning; and far beyond and far above all these, fainter than the morning cloud, but purer and changeless, slept in the blue sky the utmost peaks of the eternal snow.
Page 282 - I gave him paper and pencil, and he tried to write, and he then fell back and died, and I caught him as he fell back, and held him, and I then turned round myself and cried. I was crying a good while until I got well ; that was about an hour, and then I buried him. I digged up the ground with a tomahawk, and covered him over with logs, then grass, and my shirt and trousers. That night I left him near dark.
Page 291 - I never before experienced, and hope I never shall again. The exertion required to get up a slight piece of rising ground, even without any load, induces an indescribable sensation of pain and helplessness, and the general lassitude makes one unfit for anything. Poor Gray must have suffered very much many times when we thought him shamming.
Page 100 - Tasmania, a land where not only all the native productions' of the country, but the very features of nature herself, seem formed on a pattern the reverse of every model, form, and law on which the structure of the rest of the globe is put together : a land where the mountain-tops are vast lakes, Where the trees strip, off bark instead of leaves, and where the cherrystones grow on the outside of the cherries...
Page 266 - Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian ; Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod; Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion, Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God; Luminous streams of delight in the silent immensity flowing, Journeying surgelessly on through impalpable ethers of peace.
Page 300 - But every stone there seems to get the same. " Macquarie " for a name is all the go : The old Scotch Governor was fond of fame, Macquarie Street, Place, Port, Fort, Town, Lake, River: " Lachlan Macquarie, Esquire, Governor,
Page 18 - Adorable dreamer, whose heart has been so romantic ! who hast given thyself so prodigally, given thyself to sides and to heroes not mine, only never to the Philistines! home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular' names, and impossible loyalties...