Souvenirs of Travel, Volum 1

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S. H. Goetzel, 1857
 

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Pàgina 130 - 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 blossomed trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine.
Pàgina 182 - Chillón! 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 the cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface, For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Pàgina 13 - The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherits shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Pàgina 138 - hill, The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still. And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk; And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine— But well meet no more at Bingen—loved Bingen on the Ehine.
Pàgina 176 - 11 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
Pàgina 138 - There's another—not a sister—in the happy days gone by, You 'd have known her, by the merriment that sparkled in her eye, Too innocent for coquetry—too fond for idle scorning— Oh ! friend ; I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning. Tell her the last night of my life, (for ere the
Pàgina 195 - The Alps, The palaces of nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow !
Pàgina 179 - Clarens, sweet Clarens, birthplace of deep Love! Thine air is the young breath of passionate thought : Thy trees take root in Love ; the snows above The very glaciers have his colors caught, And sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought, By rays which sleep there lovingly.
Pàgina 169 - calm: " "Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwell in, is a thing Which warns me with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
Pàgina 248 - Ours is a trophy which will not decay With the Rialto ; Shylock and the Moor, And Pierre, can not be swept or worn away, The Keystones of the Arch ! Though all were o'er, For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

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