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Página 87 - Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? »the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from the sword.
Página 88 - He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ; he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage : neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting.
Página 95 - With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. What shall he do ? His once so vivid nerves, So full of buoyant spirit, now no more Inspire the course ; but fainting breathless toil, Sick, seizes on his heart ; he stands at bay, And puts his last weak refuge in despair. The big round tears run down his dappled face ; He groans in anguish ; while the growling pack, Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, And mark his beauteous chequered sides with gore.
Página 137 - The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley; echoing far and wide, The clamorous horn along the cliffs above; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide; The hum of bees; the linnet's lay of love; And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Página 121 - From oak to oak they run with eager haste, And wrangling share the first delicious taste Of fallen acorns ; yet but thinly found Till the strong gale has shook them to the ground.
Página 173 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and, I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
Página 98 - Their rein-deer form their riches. These their tents, Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth Supply, their wholesome fare and cheerful cups. Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanse Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep With a blue crust of ice unbounded glazed.
Página 89 - I am going to yield thee up ? To Europeans, who will tie thee close, — who will beat thee, — who will render thee miserable. Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the hearts of my children.
Página 95 - He sweeps the forest oft ; and sobbing sees The glades, mild opening to the golden day; Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy; Oft in...
Página 163 - It was, indeed," continues our historian, " brisk and lively, but wholly naked and bare of feathers, and without any winter provision in its hole. This cuckoo the boys kept two years afterwards alive in the stove; but whether it repaid them with a second song, the author of the tale has not thought fit to inform us.