THE PATHFINDER; OR, THE INLAND SEA.

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Página 241 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed, — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime. The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Página 82 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer months...
Página 209 - Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night...
Página 128 - Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons...
Página 163 - The respect for Pathfinder's skill and for his quickness and accuracy of sight [the italics are mine] was so profound and general that the instant he made this declaration the spectators began to distrust their own opinions, and a dozen rushed to the target in order to ascertain the fact. There, sure enough, it was found that the Quartermaster's bullet had gone through the hole made by Jasper's, and that, too, so accurately as to require a minute examination to be certain of the circumstance, which,...
Página 464 - tis sweet to me ! There — drink my tears, while yet they fall ; Would that my bosom's blood were balm, And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, To give thy brow one minute's calm.
Página 94 - AND is this — Yarrow? — This the stream Of which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream ? An image that hath perished ! Oh, that some minstrel's harp were near, To utter notes of gladness, And chase this silence from, the air, That fills my heart with sadness ! Yet why?
Página 40 - Before these fields were shorn and tilled, Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; The melody of waters filled The fresh and boundless wood ; And torrents dashed and rivulets played, And fountains spouted in the shade.
Página 188 - On this intimation the whole party separated, each to find those trifles which had not been shipped already. A few taps of the drum gave the necessary signal to the soldiers, and in a minute all were in motion.
Página 12 - The turf shall be my fragrant shrine My temple, Lord! that arch of thine; My censer's breath the mountain airs, And silent thoughts my only prayers.

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