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From yonder chords fast-thronging come Soul-breathing notes with rapturous speed, As when from out their heavenly home The new-born seraphim proceed; The strains pour forth their magic might, As glittering suns burst through the night, When, by Creation's storm awoke, From chaos' giant-arm they broke.
The most clamorous of the fast-thronging memories, the one which pushes its way most vividly to the front, is of a little amateur doctoring of mine; and as my patient luckily did not die of my remedies, I need not fear that I shall be asked for my diploma. Shearing was just over; over only that very evening in fact.
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