The beauties of upper Strathearn. Crieff, with six excursions around it

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Página 89 - As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about his people from henceforth even for ever.
Página 108 - Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water seem to strive again ; Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd, But, as the world, harmoniously confus'd : Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Página 1 - Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Página 45 - DESCRIBE the Borough" — though our idle tribe May love description, can we so describe, That you shall fairly streets and buildings trace, And all that gives distinction to a place ? This cannot be ; yet, moved by your request, A part I paint — let fancy form the rest.
Página 95 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set...
Página 150 - There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades. Here in full light the russet plains extend : There wrapt in clouds the bluish hills ascend. Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise, That, crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn, Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn.
Página 97 - Kilmeny gaed up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu...
Página 120 - The Narrow Glen In this still place, remote from men, Sleeps Ossian, in the narrow glen; In this still place, where murmurs on But one meek streamlet, only one: He sang of battles, and the breath Of stormy war, and violent death; And should, methinks, when all was past, Have rightfully been laid at last Where rocks were rudely heaped, and rent As by a spirit turbulent; Where sights were rough, and sounds were wild. And...
Página 120 - A convent, even a hermit's cell Would break the silence of this Dell; It is not quiet, is not ease, But something deeper far than these; The separation that is here Is of the grave ; and of austere And happy feelings of the dead : And therefore was it rightly said That Ossian, last of all his race, Lies buried in this lonely place.
Página 54 - Had you seen these roads before they were made. You would hold up your hands, and bless General Wade.

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