It was a cool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful place for echoes, and a very harbour from the raging streets.
These, however, were only the exceptions required to prove the rule that the sparrows in the plane-tree behind the house, and the echoes in the corner before it, had their own way from Sunday morning unto Saturday night.
He complimented Daylight on his prowess-"The echoes of Ophir came down to us, you know.
Echoes! Daylight could not escape the shock of the phrase--echoes had come down to them of the fight into which he had flung all his
But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.
But the echoes of the chime die away--they have endured but an instant--and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart.
There reigns a heavy silence; gaunt weeds through windows pry, And down the streets of Liang old
echoes, wailing, die.
If they continued to sing like their great predecessor of romantic themes, they were drawn as by a kind of magnetic attraction into the Homeric style and manner of treatment, and became mere
echoes of the Homeric voice: in a word, Homer had so completely exhausted the epic genre, that after him further efforts were doomed to be merely conventional.
He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far
echoes turned them all to jeering laughter.
The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the
echoes seemed to cry savagely, "Where are they, where are they, where are they?"
No
echoes of that discord shall be heard Where Father Tagus rolls, or on the banks Of olive-bordered Betis; to the rocks Or in deep caverns shall my plaint be told, And by a lifeless tongue in living words; Or in dark valleys or on lonely shores, Where neither foot of man nor sunbeam falls; Or in among the poison-breathing swarms Of monsters nourished by the sluggish Nile.
In the course of years they will gradually disappear; their songs will die away like the
echoes they once awakened, and the Canadian voyageurs will become a forgotten race, or remembered, like their associates, the Indians, among the poetical images of past times, and as themes for local and romantic associations.