United States or Spain ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Thus you may see, approaching Father, how you are now climb'd up to a higher step of glory: Your manly deeds, make your name renowned; and your joy is so much augmented that your wife looks alwaies merrily and pleasantly upon you, for giving her content; and she now also salutes you with the most sweetest and kindest names imaginable; you must also now be her guest upon all sorts of Summer and Winter fruits, & a thousand other kinds of liquorish and most acceptable dainties.
"The Goth, the Christian, time, war, flood, and fire Have dealt upon the seven-hill'd city's pride; She saw her glories star by star expire, And up the steep barbarian monarchs ride, Where the car climb'd the capitol; far and wide Temple and tower went down, nor left a site: Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void, O'er her dim fragments cast a lunar light, And say, 'Here was, or is, where all is doubly night?
"I sported in my mother's kind embraces, And climb'd my grandsire's venerable knee; Unknown were care, and rage, and sorrow's traces: To me the world was blest as blest could be. "I mark'd no frowns the world's smooth surface wrinkle, Its mighty space seemed little to my eye; I saw the stars, like sparks, at distance twinkle, And wished myself a bird to soar so high.
So I determin'd to see the end of it, and paying the fellow, climb'd into the saddle. On the summit the Cornish captains were now met, and cordially embracing. 'Tis very sad in these latter times to call back their shouts and boyish laughter, so soon to be quench'd on Lansdowne slopes, or by Bristol graff.
The weary traveller, who, all night long, Has climb'd among the Alps' tremendous steeps, Skirting the pathless precipice, where throng Wild forms of danger; as he onward creeps If, chance, his anxious eye at distance sees The mountain-shepherd's solitary home, Peeping from forth the moon-illumin'd trees, What sudden transports to his bosom come!
Nor, save for the lighted window, did it wear any grace of hospitality, but thrust out a bare shoulder upon the road, and a sign that creaked overhead and look'd for all the world like a gallows. I climb'd off Molly, and pressing my hat down on my head, struck a loud rat-tat on the door. Curiously, it opened at once; and I saw a couple of men in the lighted passage.
The Fifth at Night, when they were in perfect Tranquillity, the English, who had, by a distant and difficult way, climb'd the Mountains, and got above the Village, about Twelve at Night, came down upon 'em, and were in the Streets before the Negroes had any Inkling of their being so near. They enter'd the Village with Thirty or Forty Men, and about half that Number intercepted all the Ways.
"Grossly that man errs, who should suppose That the green valleys, and the streams and rocks, Are things indifferent to the shepherd's thoughts: Fields, where with cheerful spirits he has breathed The common air the hills, which he so oft Has climb'd with vigorous steps which have impress'd So many incidents upon his mind, Of hardship, skill or courage, joy or fear, Which, like a book, preserves the memory Of the dumb animals whom he has saved, Has fed or shelter'd; linking to such acts, So grateful in themselves, the certainty Of honourable gain; these fields, these hills, Which are his living being, even more Than his own blood what could they less? have laid Strong hold on his affections, are to him A pleasurable feeling of blind love The pleasure which there is in life itself."
But to-day as I climb'd past the spot, something very bright flashed in my eyes and dazzled me, and rubbing them and looking, I saw a great hole in the hill facing to the sou'-west in the very place I had search'd for it; and out of this a beam of light glancing.
Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in her concave shores?
Word Of The Day