...above the brown brow of Raghten, and as time proceeded, numberless silvery compeers, attendants on " That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon," broke through the fleecy clouds, too thin to hide them, and looked down with their myriads of gleaming...

...the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest As still as a brooding dove. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat...

...burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my Bailing rack, When the morning-star shines dead. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat...

...the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, As still as a brooding dove. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat...

...the imagery is partly fantastic, partly imaginative, as may be seen in the following extract : — " That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat...

...that atmosphere has a limit. We do not of course imagine that our two aeronauts would have reached " That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon : " but we think it highly probable that they would have arrived, dead or alive, at the exterior limit...

...the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest, As still as a brooding dove. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat...

...depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, As still 1 as a brooding dove. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat...

...thistle and shamrok , a selection of english poetry by Freiligrath. n. edit. Stuttg. 1857. p. 444 f. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o 'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat...

...thistle and shamrok, a selection of english poetry by Freiligrath. H. edit. Stuttg. 1857. p. 444 f. That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece -like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat...