The Continent in 1835: Sketches in Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, Savoy, and France ; Including Historical Notices ; and Statements Relative to the Existing Aspect of the Protestant Religion in Those Countries

Theodore Foster, 1837 - 340 sider

Hvad folk siger - Skriv en anmeldelse

Vi har ikke fundet nogen anmeldelser de normale steder.

Andre udgaver - Se alle

Almindelige termer og sætninger

Populære passager

Side 20 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war...
Side 20 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Side 196 - In vain for him the officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm, In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Side 220 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave. Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay...
Side 75 - 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...
Side 220 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Side 157 - And sometimes whole brigades of marching troops, Or hamlets sleeping in the dead of night, Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelm'd.
Side 123 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Side 71 - Beneath these battlements, within those walls, Power dwelt amidst her passions ; in proud state Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, Doing his evil will, nor less elate Than mightier heroes of a longer date.
Side 155 - When the glaciers, dark with death, Hang o'er precipices wild, Hang — suspended by a breath ; If a pulse but throb alarm, Headlong down the steeps they fall ; — For a pulse will break the charm, — Bounding, bursting, burying all. Struck with horror, stiff and pale. When the chaos breaks on high, All that view it from the vale, All that hear...

Bibliografiske oplysninger