The Western reader; a series of useful lessons, designed to succeed Corey and Fairbank's Elementary reader - Softcover

Hall, James

 
9781236204219: The Western reader; a series of useful lessons, designed to succeed Corey and Fairbank's Elementary reader

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Inhaltsangabe

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1833 Excerpt: ... Gaylord Clare. Proud monuments of God! sublime ye stand Among the wonders of His mighty hand: With summits soaring in the upper sky, Where the broad day looks down with burning eye; Where gorgeous clouds in solemn pomp repose, Flinging rich shadows on eternal snows: Piles of triumphant dust, ye stand alone, And hold, in kingly state, a peerless throne. Like olden conquerors, on high ye rear The regal empire and the glittering spear: Round icy spires the mists, in wreaths unroll'd, Float ever near, in purple or in gold: And voiceful torrents, sternly rolling there, Fill with wild music the unpillar'd air: What garden, or what hall on earth beneath, Thrills to such tones, as o'er the mountains breathe? There, through long ages past, those summits shone, When morning radiance on their state was thrown; There, when the summer day's career was done, Play'd the last glory of the sinking sun; There, sprinkling lustre o'er the cataract's shade, The chastened moon her glittering rainbow made, And blent with pictured stars, her lustre lay, Where to still vales the free stream leap'd away. Where are the thronging hosts of other days, Whose banners floated o'er the Alpine ways? Who, through their high defiles, to battle wound, While deadly ordnance stirred the heights around? Gone--like the dream that melts at early morn, When the lark's anthem through the sky is borne: Gone--like the wrecks that sink in ocean's spray,--And chill Oblivion murmurs--where are they? Yet "Alps on Alps" still rise;--the lofty home Of storms and eagles, where their pinions roam: Still round their peaks the magic colors lie, Of morn and eve, imprinted on the sky; And still, while kings and thrones shall fade and fall, And empty crowns Tie dim upon the pall; Still shall their glacie...

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