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Page 435 - But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone, As if were here denied The summer sun, the spring's sweet dew, That clothe with many a varied hue The bleakest mountain-side.
Page 312 - The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way; Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle...
Page 312 - Boon nature scattered, free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalmed the air, Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; The primrose pale and violet flower Found in each clift a narrow bower; Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Grouped their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.
Page 312 - Grey birch and aspen wept beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.
Page 94 - VEN thus, methinks, a city reared should be, Yea, an imperial city, that might hold Five times a hundred noble towns in fee, And either with their might of Babel old, Or the rich Roman pomp of empery Might stand compare, highest in arts enrolled, Highest in arms ; brave tenement for the free, Who never crouch to thrones, or sin for gold. Thus should her towers be raised — with vicinage Of clear bold hills, that curve her very streets, As if to vindicate 'mid choicest seats Of art, abiding Nature's...
Page 435 - Hath rent a strange and shattered way Through the rude bosom of the hill, And that each naked precipice, Sable ravine, and dark abyss, Tells of the outrage still. The wildest glen but this can show Some touch of Nature's genial glow ; On high Benmore green mosses grow, And heath-bells bud in deep...
Page 425 - Fyers pours his mossy floods ; Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds, Where, through a shapeless breach, his stream resounds. As high in air the bursting torrents flow, As deep recoiling surges foam below, Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends, And viewless echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
Page 470 - Round about, there are four mountains, which seem as if they had tumbled down from the clouds ; having nothing to do with the country or each other, either in shape, materials, position or character, and which look very much as if they were wondering how they got there.
Page 292 - We were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish, if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses ; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances...