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barism, I am lost in an exulting admiration. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine! See how the infant liberties of Greece were sheltered from the vast tribes of the uncivilized north by the heights of Hæmus and Rhodope! Behold how the Alps describe their magnificent crescent—inclining their opposite extremities to the Adriatic and Tyrrhene Seas-locking up Italy from the Gallic and Tuetonic hordes, until the power and spirit of Rome had reached their maturity, and until she spread far her laws and language, and planted seeds of many mighty nations !
Thanks be to God for mountains! Their colossal firmness seems almost to break the current of time itself: the geologist in them searches for traces of the earlier world, and it is there too that man -resisting the revolutions of lower regions-retains through innumerable years his habits and his rights, while a multitude of changes has remoulded the people of Europe, while languages, laws, dynasties and creeds have passed over it, the children of the Celt' and the Goth, who fled to the mountains a thousand years ago, are found there now, and show us in face and figure, in language and garb, what their fathers were: that there the fiery heart of freedom is still found and will be so for ever.-W. HOWITT.
RAIN IN SUMMER.
How beautiful is the rain !
The sick man from his chamber looks
In the country, on every side,
In the furrowed land
And the vapours that arise
From under the sheltering trees,
THE SONG OF THE BROOK.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
To bicker down a valley.
In little sharps and trebles;
I babble on the pebbles.
By many a field and fallow,
With willow-weed and mallow. I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
Against my sandy shallows.
In brambly wildernesses;
I loiter round my cresses.
To join the brimming river;
TENNYSON. THE MILL-STREAM.
A child looks into the mill-stream,
Where fish glide in and out, The dace with the coat of silver,
And the crimson-spotted trout.
He plays with the diamond waters,
He talks to the droning bees,
He runs as to catch the breeze.
A perfume from wood and meadow
Is wandering round the boy; He is twining a garland of lilacs,
And joyous he thinks not of joy.
For the heavens seem always near,
Is a charm that the angels hear.
O light, and perfume, and love!
O the dream that can lift us above!
O Life! no longer a problem,
But a something to see and enjoy,
A breeze round a dancing boy.
Otwild Hope and of Fancy wild,
THE WILLOW AND RIVER.
The willow grows beside the river,
And the boughs hang o'er its flow, Till the green leaves, as they quiver,
Kiss the waves that run below.
The river murmurs to the willow
With a sad, mysterious tone, As the bubbles of each billow
Gurgling break on bank or stone.
THOUGHTS ON THE SEA.
The joy of song, which hath such deep control,
Now on my mind a shadowy world hath brought, Stirring the hidden depihs of heart and soul
With glorious thought; For it brings with it images of thee,
The mind in its immensity expands
To take within its range so vast a theme, And clothes the thoughts with hues of other lands,
As in a dream, Giving to words a light, a power, a sense
Of passionate influence.
Oft when a boy, upon thy breast I lay
Floating or swimming-changing with my whims, Feeling the warmth of the bright sun-beam play
Upon my limbs ;
As an unconscious child.
Alone I've stood beside thy sounding shore,
List’ning to the wild music of thy voice; And while the moaning winds would sigh and roar,
I would rejoice; I love to be familiar with each sound
Which echoed far around.
But soon I had a boat with swelling sail,
And many a day reposed beneath the sky, Catching the breeze until it prov'd a gale,
And waves were high; And when the storm was raging in its height
I felt a deep delight.
I've heard the sea-gull screaming o'er my head,
I've seen the stormy petrel on my track, But none had power to stop me where I led
Or keep me back; And I maintain'd companionship with thee,
A HYMN OF THE SEA.
The sea is mighty, but a mightier sways
The obedient waves
These restless surges eat away the shores