Chapter I:: Preface and initial pages of The Pathfinder | ||
1. Chapter I::
The turf shall be my fragrant shrine;
My temple, Lord! That arch of thine;
My censer's breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
Moore
The sublimity that is connected with
vastness, is familiar to all every eye.
The most abstruse, the
most far-reaching, perhaps the most
of the poet's thoughts,
crowd
on the mind imagination as he gazes into the
depths of the illimitable voice; the expanse of the ocean is seldom seen by the novice, with
indifference, and the mind, even in the obscurity of night, finds a parallel to that
grandeur, which seems inseparable from images to which that
the senses cannot measure compass.
With feelings akin to this admiration
and awe, the offspring of sublimity, were the
different characters
with which the scenery action of this tale must open, gazing on
the scene
before them. Four persons in all, two of each sex, they
had managed to ascend a pile of trees,
that had been uptorn by a
tempest, to catch a view of the objects that surrounded them
The wind-row, asIt is still the practice of
the country to call these spots, which
by wind-row. By letting
in the light of heaven upon the dark and damp
recesses of the woods, they form a sort
of order
in the solemn
obscurity of the native virgin forests of America. ThisThe
particular wind-row of which we
are writing lay on the brow
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Chapter I:: Preface and initial pages of The Pathfinder | ||