An Alpine tale. By the author of 'Tales from Switzerland'.

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1823
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Page 267 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 228 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth ; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations.
Page 258 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh ! night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong ; Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along From peak to peak the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! And this is in the night.
Page 102 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given. But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven : As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread. Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Page 208 - which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake, That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.
Page 67 - The great day of the Lord is near, it is near, and hasteth greatly, even the voice of the day of the Lord : the mighty man shall cry there bitterly. That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness...
Page 269 - Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short of it.
Page 191 - 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.
Page 152 - O'er all the mountain-tops: — 'tis done ; The deluge ceases ; bold and bright The rainbow shoots from hill to hill ; Down sinks the sun ; on presses night ; — Mont Blanc is lovely still. There take thy stand, my spirit ; — spread The world of shadows at thy feet ; And mark how calmly, overhead, The stars like saints in glory meet : While hid in solitude sublime, Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb, And hear the passing foot of Time Step through the gloom.
Page 82 - O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven...

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