The British Isles Through an Opera Glass

Predný obal
G.W. Jacobs & Company, 1899 - 320 strán (strany)

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Strana 59 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;* Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Strana 289 - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Strana 70 - With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would In the days of childhood Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder Sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Strana 59 - There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite still.
Strana 234 - In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody. Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old lona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, " Well hast thou done, frail Child of clay ! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Task'd high and hard — but witness mine !"— XI.
Strana 151 - A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
Strana 234 - Where, as to shame the temples deck'd By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise A minster to her Maker's praise! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody.
Strana 234 - Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea. The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round.
Strana 234 - The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round. Then all unknown its columns rose, Where dark and undisturbed repose The cormorant had found...
Strana 59 - Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best ; Where the storms which we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace ! T.

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