crest

He has every snowy crest and the mountain peaks and rocky crests for his domain; hither and thither he goes through the close thickets, now lured by soft streams, and now he presses on amongst towering crags and climbs up to the highest peak that overlooks the flocks.

The sun had, however, risen through a bank of orange clouds, tingeing with its cheerful rays the crests of the black waves.

Ere long, the crests of a mountain-range assumed a more decided prominence.

One by one, however, the ships managed to dip below the crests of the outlying hills until only one barely moving craft was in sight.

But King Neptune had kept no blind look-out; he had been looking admiringly on the battle from his seat on the topmost crests of wooded Samothrace, whence he could see all Ida, with the city of Priam and the ships of the Achaeans.

After dinner we had a walk up and down the Kandersteg valley, in the soft gloaming, with the spectacle of the dying lights of day playing about the crests and pinnacles of the still and solemn upper realm for contrast, and text for talk.

Detached groups of horsemen are well in front - not altogether exposed - many of them intently regarding the crest of a hill a mile away in the direction of the interrupted advance.

2.--Looking at the stars last night as they rose above the crest of the ridge east of the house, I observed them successively disappear--from left to right.

Hence she obtained her crest, which is popularly said to be her father's grave-hillock.

"If I do not conceal myself, he may be reminded to write something disagreeable about my lack of a crest or my appetite for scrap- iron; and although he is inexpressibly brilliant when he devotes himself to censure of folly and greed, his dulness is matchless when he transcends the limits of legitimate comment."

Far in the forest, dim and old, For her may some tall vault unfold -- Some vault that oft hath flung its black And winged pannels fluttering back, Triumphant, o'er the crested palls, Of her grand family funerals -- Some sepulchre, remote, alone, Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, many an idle stone -- Some tomb fromout whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!

Around and over it whirled, this way and that, and a few moments later the chicken-coop dropped far away into the sea, where the big waves caught it and slid it up-hill to a foaming crest and then down-hill into a deep valley, as if it were nothing more than a plaything to keep them amused.