Voices from the MountainsW.S. Orr, 1847 - 114 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
art thou beauty behold bless bliss blossoms fall breast breath bright CHARLES MACKAY cheeks Cleon crime Crinan crowd cursed death divine dream dull earnest earth eternal evermore eyes face fair faith fearful fierce filled fool forlorn Frontispiece gibbet gibe gilt gilt edges glittering prize grief grub under ground hands hath hear heard heart heaven heavenly human kind infinite isle law of blood Let us alone-let limbs lips listened little moles live Loch Lochlin looked Mackay memory MESMERIST mighty misery mockery morn morocco mountain mysteries never night o'er pain POEMS preach robes round we run scorn shone sight smile song Sorrow soul spake spirit stars straths strong sweet tears thee There's sunshine thine thing thou hast thought truth voice wave whisper wilt wind wise wiser words Wouldst thou wretched wrong youth
Popular passages
Page 98 - I: He in velvet, I in fustian; richer man am I. Cleon is a slave to grandeur; free as thought am I: Cleon fees a score of doctors ; need of none have I : Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die ; Death may come, — he'll find me ready; happier man am I.
Page 25 - THE man is thought a knave or fool, Or bigot, plotting crime, Who, for the advancement of his kind, Is wiser than his time.
Page 69 - A LITTLE child beneath a tree Sat and chanted cheerily A little song, a pleasant song, Which was, — she sang it all day long, — " When the wind blows, the blossoms fall ; But a good God reigns over all ! " There passed a lady by the way, Moaning in the face of day : There were tears upon her cheek, Grief in her heart too great to speak ; Her husband died but yester-morn, And left her in...
Page 29 - Tis dark and shines not in the ray: 'Twas good, no doubt — 'tis gone at last — There dawns another day. Why should we sit where ivies creep, And shroud ourselves in charnels deep, Or the world's yesterdays deplore, 'Mid crumbling ruins mossy hoar?
Page 71 - The widow's lips impulsive moved; The mother's grief, though unreproved, Soften'd, as her trembling tongue Repeated what the infant sung; And the sad lover, with a start, Conn'd it over to his heart. And though the child — if child it were, And not a seraph, sitting there — Was seen no more, the sorrowing three Went on their way resignedly, The song still ringing in their ears — Was it music of the spheres? Who shall tell? They did not know. But in the midst of deepest woe The strain...
Page 31 - tis ever bright. Time, nor Eternity, hath seen A repetition of delight In all its phases : ne'er hath been For men or angels that which is; And that which is hath ceased to be Ere we have breathed it, and its place Is lost in the Eternity. But Now is ever good and fair, Of the Infinitude the heir, And we of it. So let us live That from the Past we may receive Light for the Now — from Now a joy That Fate nor Time shall e'er destroy.
Page 30 - Great Plato saw the vernal year Send forth its tender flowers and shoots, And luscious autumn pour its fruits ; And we can see the lilies blow, The corn-fields wave, the rivers flow ; For us all bounties of the earth, For us its wisdom, love and mirth, If we daily walk in the sight of God, And prize the gifts he has bestowed. We will not dwell amid the graves, Nor in dim twilights sit alone, To gaze at moldered architraves, Or plinths...
Page 70 - And showed how bright had been the past, The present drear and overcast. And as they stood beneath the tree. Listening, soothed, and placidly, A youth came by, whose sunken eyes, Spak.3 of a load of miseries; And he, arrested like the twain, Stopped to listen to the strain.
Page 29 - Why should we see with dead men's eyes, Looking at WAS from morn to night, When the beauteous Now, the divine To BE, Woo with their charms our living sight ? Why should we hear but echoes dull When the world of sound, so beautiful, Will give us music of our own ? -Why in the darkness should we grope, When the sun, in heaven's resplendent cope, Shines as bright as ever it shone ? Abraham saw no brighter stars Than those which burn for thee and me. When Homer...