|Monsieur Pierre Agenor de Vargnes, the Examining Magistrate, was the exact opposite of a practical joker. He was dignity, staidness, correctness personified. As a sedate man, he was quite incapable of being guilty, even in his dreams, of a... Read more of The Man With The Pale Eyes at Mystery Stories.ca|| Informational|
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Gentle Woman! thou most perfect Work of the Divine Arc...
The Mountain Galloway
My tried and trusty mountain steed, Of Aberteivi's hardy...
The Rose Of Llan Meilen
Sweet Rose of Llan Meilen! you bid me forget That ever i...
The Lord Of Clas
The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and...
To The Nightingale
river of that name was born at Mold, in Flintshire, in the...
The Flowers Of Spring
beautiful stanzas, from which the following translation ...
The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife
Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win...
By The Rev Rees Prichard, Ma
May And November
Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for...
O'er Walter's bed no foot shall tread, Nor step unhallo...
The Grove Of Broom
The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go...
the following and several other poems in this collection. ...
The Circling Of The Mead Horns
Fill the blue horn, the blue buffalo horn: Natural is mead...
Under The Orchard Tree
Under the deep-laden boughs of the orchard Walks a maid...
Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str...
The Lament Op Llywarch Hen
The bright hours return, and the blue sky is ringing ...
My Native Cot
The white cot where I spent my youth Is on yon lofty mo...
King of the mighty hills! thy crown of snow Thou reares...
Thou swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like...
The Hall Of Cynddylan
The Hall of Cynddylan is gloomy to-night, I weep, for th...
The Immovable Covenant
Category: The Sublime.
the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist Church, and was
possessed of extensive learning, and a highly critical taste. After
officiating as Minister at a Church in Swansea and other places, he
finally settled at Builth, where he died at an early age.]
Ye cloud piercing mountains so mighty,
Whose age is the age of the sky;
No cold blasts of winter affright ye,
Nor heats of the summer defy:
You've witness'd the world's generations
Succeeding like waves on the sea;
The deluge you saw, when doom'd nations,
In vain to your summits would flee.
You challenge the pyramids lasting,
That rolling milleniums survive;
Fierce whirlwinds, and thunderbolts blasting,
And oceans with tempests alive!
But lo! there's a day fast approaching,
Which shall your foundations reveal,--
The powers of heaven will be shaking,
And earth like a drunkard shall reel!
Proud Idris, and Snowdon so tow'ring,
Ye now will be skipping like lambs;
The Alps will, by force overpow'ring
Propell'd be disporting like rams!
The breath of Jehovah will hurl you--
Aloft in the air you shall leap:
Your crash, like his thunder's who'll whirl you,
Shall blend with the roars of the deep.
All ties, and strong-holds, with their powers,
Shall, water-like, melting be found;
Earth's palaces, temples, and towers,
Shall then be all dash'd to the ground:
But were this great globe plunged for ever
In seas of oblivion, or prove
Untrue to its orbit, yet never,
My God, will thy covenant move!
The skies, as if kindling with ire and
Resentment, will pour on this ball
A deluge of sulphurous fire, and
Consume its doom'd elements all!
But though heaven and earth will be passing
Away on time's Saturday eve;
The covenant-bonds, notwithstanding,
Are steadfast to all that believe!
I see--but no longer deriding--
The sinner with gloom on his brow:
He cries to the mountains to hide him,
But nothing can shelter him now!
He raves--all but demons reject him!
But not so the Christian so pure;
The covenant-arms will protect him,
In these he'll be ever secure!
Thus fixed, while his triumphs unfolding,
Enrapture his bosom serene:
In sackcloth the heavens he's beholding,
And nature dissolving is seen;
He mounts to the summits of glory,
And joins with the harpers above,
Whose theme is sweet Calvary's story--
The issue of covenant love.
Methinks, after ages unnumber'd
Have roll'd in eternity's flight,
I see him, by myriads surrounded,
Enrob'd in the garments of light;
And shouting o'er this world's cold ashes--
"Thy covenant, my God, still remains:
No tittle or jot away passes,
And thus it my glory sustains."
He asks, as around him he glances,
"Ye sov'reigns and princes so gay,
Where are your engagements and pledges?
Where are they--where are they to-day?
Where are all the covenants sacred
That mortal with mortals e'er made?"
A silent voice whispers,--"Departed--
'Tis long since their records did fade!"
I hear him again, while he's winging
His flight through the realms of the sky,
Th' immovable covenant singing
With voice so melodious and high
That all the bright mountains celestial
Are dancing, as thrill'd with delight:
Too lofty for visions terrestial--
He vanishes now from my sight.
Blest Saviour, my rock, and my refuge,
I fain to thy bosom would flee;
Of sorrows an infinite deluge
On Calv'ry thou barest for me:
Thou fountain of love everlasting--
High home of the purpose to save:
Myself on the covenant casting,
I triumph o'er death and the grave.
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