Wanderings in France and Switzerland

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Verlag nicht ermittelbar, 1869
 

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Passatges populars

Pàgina 148 - 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!
Pàgina 92 - For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face : now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
Pàgina 153 - 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.
Pàgina 148 - Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance?
Pàgina 121 - Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried ; he descended into hell ; the third day he rose again from the dead ; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty ; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
Pàgina 27 - A POOR wayfaring man of grief Hath often crossed me on my way. Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer,
Pàgina 159 - It is not noon— the Sunbow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Pàgina 175 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains.
Pàgina 153 - Ye toppling crags of ice! Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me! I hear ye momently above, beneath, Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass, And only fall on things that still would live; On the young flourishing forest, or the hut And hamlet of the harmless villager.
Pàgina 27 - Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered. Not a word he spake. Just perishing for want of bread, I gave him all ; he blessed it, brake, And ate ; — but gave me part again.

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