Saunterings in EuropeA. D. F. Randolph, 1882 - 346 pages |
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Page 65 - 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.
Page 144 - The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Page 337 - I ne'er delayed, When foeman bade me draw my blade; Nay, more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death: Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, And my deep debt for life preserved, A better meed have well deserved: Can nought but blood our feud atone? Are there no means?
Page 322 - Traced like a map, the landscape lies In cultured beauty stretching wide ; There, Pentland's green acclivities ; There, Ocean, with its azure tide ; There, Arthur's seat ; and gleaming through Thy southern wing, Dunedin blue ! While, in the orient, Lammer's daughters, A distant giant range are seen, — North Berwick Law, with cone of green, And Bass amid the waters.
Page 56 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains: They crowned him long ago, On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Page 55 - NOT from the sands or cloven rocks, Thou rapid Arve ! thy waters flow ; Nor earth, within her bosom, locks Thy dark unfathomed wells below. Thy springs are in the cloud, thy stream Begins to move and murmur first Where ice-peaks feel the noonday beam, Or rain-storms on the glacier burst.
Page 316 - However, back she comes ; the starting rope slackens in Miller's left hand, and the stroke, unshipping his oar, pushes the stern gently out again. There goes the second gun ! one short minute more, and we are off. Short minute, indeed! you wouldn't say so if you were in the boat, with your heart in your mouth, and trembling all over like a man with the palsy. Those sixty seconds before the starting gun in your first race — why, they are a little lifetime. " By Jove, we are drifting in again,
Page 326 - February, 1688, that Mr. James Renwick suffered, were one way or other murdered and destroyed for the same cause about eighteen thousand, of whom were executed at Edinburgh about an hundred of noblemen, gentlemen, ministers and others, noble martyrs for JESUS CHRIST. The most of them lie here.
Page 64 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave, Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies...
Page 69 - Streams from the high, Steep, rocky wall The purest fount ; In clouds of spray, Like silver dust, It veils the rock In rainbow hues ; And dancing down With music soft, Is lost in air.