. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. So bright, so glorious! Such a majestyIn yon pure vault! So many dazzling tintsIn yonder waste of waves —so like the ocean21* 144 THE WHITE HILLS. With its unnumbered islands there encircledBy foaming surges, that the mounting eagle,Lifting his fearless pinion through the cloudsTo bathe in purest sunbeams, seemed an osprayHovering above his prey; and yon tall pines,Their tops half mantled in a snowy veil,A frigate with full canvas, bearing onTo conquest and to glory. But even theseHad round them sometliing of the lofty airIn which they m
. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. So bright, so glorious! Such a majestyIn yon pure vault! So many dazzling tintsIn yonder waste of waves —so like the ocean21* 144 THE WHITE HILLS. With its unnumbered islands there encircledBy foaming surges, that the mounting eagle,Lifting his fearless pinion through the cloudsTo bathe in purest sunbeams, seemed an osprayHovering above his prey; and yon tall pines,Their tops half mantled in a snowy veil,A frigate with full canvas, bearing onTo conquest and to glory. But even theseHad round them sometliing of the lofty airIn which they moved; not like to things ol earthyBut heightened, and made glorious, as becameSuch pomp and splendor. Who can tell the brightnessThat every moment caught a newer glow,That circle, with its centre like the heartOf elemental fire, and spreading outIn floods of liquid gold on the ijlue skyAnd on the opaline waves, crowned with a rainbowBright as the arch that bent above the throneSeen in a vision by the holy manIn Patmos! who can tell how it
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectwhitemo, bookyear1876
