Luckily, on my arrival in Hanoi, I met an amazing guy Bryan from the Philippines and we shared a similar opinion when it comes to the way of traveling — we were looking for memorable experiences. We headed to Halong Bay absolutely not having an idea what to do and see. We only knew that we were heading to a breathtaking natural wonder. Before we arrived, Bryan stumbled upon a post on Instagram from one upcoming travel blogger with the alternative view on Halong Bay. The place is called Bai Tho Mountain the view really gives you much inspiration! You need to navigate the doors of the local house and you basically walk through their house very warm people to set your feet on the hiking trail that will lead you to the top.
We went there twice to catch the sunset and sunrise. The sunrise absolutely blew away our minds and the most interesting thing is that only four people in total were there catching the sunrise. Be careful in the morning or afternoon as it becomes a bit foggy and slippery on the steep steps. This dog will protect the doors where you need to come in.
The metal door is the first small obstacle on the beginning of the trail. You will be greeted with a few friendly dogs before your climb. At the beginning of the trail, there are many stairs, but later, there are not any. First view of Halong Bay city from the stairs. Still far away from the top.. The stairs at the beginning of the trail are very easy to overcome. After a while, you will get to the point where there are not many stairs and you need to use the help of your hands a bit. After a while, you will get to the point where the path looks like this. A view from the fifth floor of our hostel.
Always ask for the fifth floor as you will have a huge balcony for yourself with the view like this! There are many options to stay in Halong Bay, especially when tourists start to arrive around May. I went for a budget option again, renting a hostel on the main street in Halong Bay city.
The name of the hostel is Halong Bay View Hostel and it acts as a backpacker hub there. The hostel has a small pub with billiards and a restaurant where you could order a coffee, tea or western food. The coffee is decent, but I make better sandwiches then they serve there, so my genuine advice is not to eat there sorry guys! I had luck to have a room on the fifth floor with a huge balcony. The room had everything needed and it was clean. The urge to catch the sunrise on Halong Bay was much stronger than the comfort of the bed this time!
A view of the hostel from the street. It has a bar and breakfast included in the price. The breakfast is nothing special, but still, any food is better than no food! I was so amazed by the view I had from the room. Literally, you could see Halong Bay from the balcony drinking a beer! Hope you enjoyed and if you have any additional questions, feel free to reach us out through contact form or directly on social media!
Check out our Vietnam bucket list according to 14 travel bloggers. Let's connect and share some interesting stories and experiences to inspire more people to travel around this stunning country! A passionate traveler who is interested in shortening the gap between rich and poor by helping in the field of education.
Very passionate about the diversity of cultures around the world and meeting new people that inspire me on a daily basis to continue doing great things. An absolutely stunning place to visit! Really liked this guide, shared on my social media accounts. Have saved for when we are in Vietnam in July. Thank you so much for the support! Great post — very informative! Interesting post you have consolidated here! I actually joined a cruise with a company for quite an affordable price and we managed to enjoy most of the attractions even though it was peak season. Really loved the beautiful landscapes surrounding the cruise ship!
This is gorgeous! Hi, I just arrived in Halong and was reading your amazing blog post. I am really interested to do this walk up to Poem Mountain. I was just wandering how long the walk would talk? And is it very exhausting with this heat? Thank you! Thanks for the great post! I do want to ask if I were to choose between sunrise and sunset, which one is better in your opinion in terms of the view? Thanks a lot. Your email address will not be published. Hello everyone!
Learn and discover stunning Vietnam with us! Keep reading as I will provide you with the guide to experience Halong Bay on a shoestring budget: Table of Contents. Join our weekly newsletter No Spam! Join Now! For past misery are we weeping? What is past can hurt no more; And the gracious heavens are keeping Aid for that which lies before. One is absent, and for one, Cheerless, chill is our hearthstone. One is absent, and for him Cheeks are pale and eyes are dim.
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Thou didst purchase by thy fall Home for us and peace for all; Yet, how darkly dawned that day! Dreadful was the price to pay!
Just as once, through sun and mist I have climbed the mountain's breast, Still my gun with certain aim Brought to earth the fluttering game:. But the very dogs repined; Though I called with whistle shrill, Tay and Carlo lagged behind, Looking backward o'er the hill. Sorrow was not vocal then; Mute their woe and my despair; But the joy of life was flown— He was gone, and we were lone.
So it is by morn and eve; So it is in field and hall; For the absent one we grieve; One being absent, saddens all. April 19, Sacred watcher, wave thy bells! Bluebell, even as all divine I have seen my darling shine; Bluebell, even as fair and frail I have seen my darling fail. Lift thy head and speak to me, Soothing thoughts are breathed by thee. Thus they whisper, 'Summer's sun Lights me till my life is done; Would I rather choose to die Under winter's stormy sky?
Glad I bloom, and calm I fade, Dews of heaven are round me staid Mourner, mourner, dry thy tears, Sorrow comes with lengthened years. May 7, The busy day has hurried by, And hearts greet kindred hearts once more; And swift the evening hours should fly, But, what turns every gleaming eye So often to the door? And then so quick away? And laughter sink into a sigh, And merry words to whispers die, And gladness change to gloom?
Oh, we are listening for a sound, We know, shall ne'er be heard again; Sweet voices in the halls resound, Fair forms, fond faces gather round, But all in vain, in vain. Their feet shall never waken more The echoes in those galleries wide, Nor dare the snow on mountain's brow, Nor skim the river's frozen flow, Nor wander down its side.
They, they are gone! Not for a while, As golden suns at night decline, And e'en in death our grief beguile, Foretelling with a rose-red smile How bright the morn will shine. No; these dark towers are lone and lorn; This very crowd is vacancy; And we must watch and wait and mourn And half look out for their return; And think their forms we see.
And fancy music in our ear, Such as their lips could only pour, And think we feel their presence near, And start to find they are not here; And never shall be more! June 14, And now the house-dog stretched once more His limbs upon the glowing floor; The children half resume their play, Though from the warm hearth scared away; The goodwife left her spinning-wheel And spread with smiles the evening meal; The shepherd placed a seat and pressed To their poor fare his unknown guest, And he unclasped his mantle now, And raised the covering from his brow, Said, voyagers by land and sea Were seldom feasted daintily, And cheered his host by adding stern He'd no refinement to unlearn.
A silence settled on the room, The cheerful welcome sank to gloom; But not those words, though cold or high, So froze their hospitable joy. No—there was something in his face, Some nameless thing which hid not grace, And something in his voice's tone Which turned their blood as chill as stone.
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The ringlets of his long black hair Fell o'er a cheek most ghastly fair. Youthful he seemed—but worn as they Who spend too soon their youthful day.
But when upraised his eye would dart An icy shudder through the heart, Compassion changed to horror then, And fear to meet that gaze again. It was not hatred's tiger-glare, Nor the wild anguish of despair; It was not either misery Which quickens friendship's sympathy; No—lightning all unearthly shone Deep in that dark eye's circling zone, Such withering lightning as we deem None but a spirit's look may beam; And glad were all when he turned away And wrapt him in his mantle grey, And hid his head upon his arm, And veiled from view his basilisk charm.
July 12, , E. Come hither, child; who gifted thee With power to touch that string so well? How darest thou wake thoughts in me, Thoughts that I would—but cannot quell! Nay, chide not, lady; long ago I heard those notes in Elbe Hall, And had I known they'd waken woe, I'd weep their music to recall. But thus it was one festal night, When I was hardly six years old, I stole away from crowds and light And sought a chamber dark and cold.
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I had no one to love me there, I knew no comrade and no friend, And so I went to sorrow where Heaven only heaven could me fend. Loud blew the wind. I imaged in the lonely room A thousand forms, a fearful gloom;. And with my wet eyes raised on high, I prayed to God that I might die. Three times it rose, that solemn strain, Then died away, nor came again; And still the words and still the tone Dwell in their might when all alone. July 19, How long will you remain? The midnight hour Has tolled its last stroke from the minster tower.
Come, come; the fire is dead, the lamp burns low; Your eyelids droop, a weight is on your brow; Your cold hands hardly hold the weary pen: Come; morn will give recovered strength again. No; let me linger; leave me, let me be A little longer in this reverie: I'm happy now; and would you tear away My blissful thought that never comes with day.
A vision dear, though false, for well my mind Knows what a bitter waking waits behind. Can there be pleasure in this shadowy room, With windows yawning on intenser gloom, And such a dreary wind so bleakly sweeping Round walls where only you are vigil keeping? Besides, your face has not a sign of joy, And more than tearful sorrow fills your eye. Aye speak of these; but can you tell me why Day breathes such beauty over earth and sky, And waking sounds revive, restore again To hearts that all night long have throbbed with pain?
Is it not that the sunshine and the wind Lure from itself the woe-worn mind, And all the joyous music breathing by, And all the splendours of that cloudless sky, Regive him shadowy gleams of infancy And draw his tired gaze from futurity? Fair sinks the summer evening now In scattered glory round; The sky upon its holy brow Wears not a cloud that speaks of gloom.
The old tower, shrined in golden light, Looks down on the descending sun; So softly evening blends with night, You scarce can say when day is done. And this is just the joyous hour When we were wont to burst away T' escape from labour's tyrant power And cheerfully go out to play. Then why is all so sad and lone?
No merry footstep on the stair, No laugh, no heart-awaking tone, But voiceless silence everywhere. I've wandered round our garden ground,  And still it seemed at every turn That I should greet approaching feet, And words upon the breezes hung. Then tell me, are they gone for aye, Or gleams the sun amongst the mists of care? Be still, reviving hope doth say, Departed joys 'tis fond to mourn, Think every storm that rides its way Prepared a more divine return. August 30, October 23, That wind, I used to hear it swelling With joy divinely deep; You might have seen my hot tears welling, But rapture made me weep.
I used to love on winter nights To lie and dream alone Of all the hopes and real delights My early years had known. And oh! November 28, Thy sun is near meridian height, And my sun sinks in endless night; But if that night bring only sleep, Then I shall rest, while thou wilt weep. And say not that my early tomb Will give me to a darker doom; Shall these long agonising years Be punished by eternal tears? No: that I feel can never be; A God of hate could hardly bear To watch through all eternity, His own creation's dread despair!
The pangs that wring my mortal breast, Must claim from Justice lasting rest; Enough, that this departing breath Will pass in anguish worse than death. If I have sinned; long, long ago That sin was purified by woe. I have suffered on thro' night and day; I've trod a dark and frightful way. Earth's wilderness was round me spread, Heaven's tempests beat my naked head; I did not kneel; in vain would prayer Have sought one gleam of mercy there! They struck—and long may Eden shine Ere I would call its glories mine; All Heaven's undreamt felicity Could never blot the past from me.
Years may cloud and death may sever, But what is done, is done for ever. And thou false friend and treacherous guide Go sate thy cruel heart with pride. Go, load my memory with shame; Speak but to curse my hated name; My tortured limbs in dungeons bind, And spare my life to kill my mind. Leave me in chains and darkness now, And when my very soul is worn, When reason's light has left my brow, And madness cannot feel thy scorn,.
Then come again; thou wilt not shrink— I know thy soul is free from fear— The last full cup of triumph drink, Before the blank of death be there. Gaze on the wretch—recall to mind His golden days left long behind. Does Memory sleep in Lethean rest? Or wakes its whisper in thy breast? O Memory wake! Let scenes return, That e'en her haughty heart must mourn! Reveal; where o'er a lone green wood The moon of summer pours Far down from heaven its silver flood On deep Eldenna's shores;. There, lingering in the wild embrace Youth's warm affections gave, She sits and fondly seems to trace His features in the wave.
And while on that reflected face Her eyes intently dwell; 'Fernando, sing to-night,' she says, 'The lays I love so well. He smiles and sings, through every air Betrays the faith of yesterday; His soul is glad to cast for her Virtue and faith and Heaven away. But, if there be a God above, Whose arm is strong, whose word is true, This hell shall wring thy spirit too!
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January 6, Far , far is mirth withdrawn; 'Tis three long hours before the morn, And I watch lonely, drearily; So come, thou shade, commune with me. Deserted one! Year after year the grass grows green Above the dust where thou hast been. I will not name thy blighted name, Tarnished by unforgotten shame, Though not because my bosom torn Joins the mad world in all its scorn. Thy phantom face is dark with woe, Tears have left ghastly traces there, Those ceaseless tears! I wish their flow Could quench thy wild despair. They deluge my heart like the rain On cursed Zamornah's howling plain.
Yet when I hear thy foes deride, I must cling closely to thy side. Our mutual foes! They will not rest From trampling on thy buried breast. Glutting their hatred with the doom, They picture thine beyond the tomb. Then do not in this night of grief, This time of overwhelming fear, O do not think that God can leave Forget, forsake, refuse to hear!
What have I dreamt? He lies asleep, With whom my heart would vainly weep; He rests, and I endure the woe, That left his spirit long ago. March April May 18, But lonely in her distant cave She heard the river's restless wave Chafing its banks with dreamy flow, Music for mirth and wail for woe. Palm trees and cedars towering high Deepened the gloom of evening's sky, And thick did raven ringlets veil Her forehead, drooped like lily pale.
Yet I could hear my lady sing; I knew she did not mourn; For never yet from sorrow's spring Such witching notes were born. Thus poured she in that cavern wild The voice of feelings warm, As bending o'er her beauteous child She clasped its sleeping form. I was not tired, my darling one, Of gazing in thine eyes. My whole heart centred there; I breathed not but to send above One gush of ardent prayer. My gracious God! Speak, in Thy mercy, Maker, speak, And seal it safe from woe.
The revellers in the city slept, My lady in her woodland bed; I watching o'er her slumber wept, As one who mourns the dead. August 17 I see around me piteous tombstones grey Stretching their shadows far away. Beneath the turf my footsteps tread Lie low and lone the silent dead; Beneath the turf, beneath the mould, Forever dark, forever cold. And my eyes cannot hold the tears That memory hoards from vanished years.
For time and Death and mortal pain Give wounds that will not heal again. Let me remember half the woes I've seen and heard and felt below, And heaven itself, so pure and blest, Could never give my spirit rest. Sweet land of light! Thy children fair Know nought akin to our despair; Nor have they felt, nor can they tell What tenants haunt each mortal cell, What gloomy guests we hold within, Torments and madness, tear and sin!
Well, may they live in ectasy Their long eternity of joy; At least we would not bring them down With us to weep, with us to groan. No, Earth would wish no other sphere To taste her cup of suffering drear; She turns from heaven with a tearless eye And only mourns that we must die!
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To cheer our eager eyes awhile We see thee smile, how fondly smile! But who reads not through the tender glow Thy deep, unutterable woe? Indeed no darling land above Can cheat thee of thy children's love. We all in life's departing shine, Our last dear longings blend with thine, And struggle still and strive to trace With clouded gaze thy darling face. We would not leave our nature home For any world beyond the tomb. No, mother, on thy kindly breast Let us be laid in lasting rest, Or waken but to share with thee A mutual immortality.
September 1, May 17, Daughter divine! No; turn towards the western side. In all her glory, all her pride! O come away! February 6, And hark! What do these brazen tongues proclaim? And all have failed! For now might Faith decay. Now might we doubt God's guardian power And curse instead of pray. He will not even let us die, Not let us die at home; The foe must see our soldiers fly As they had feared the tomb! Because we dare not stay to gain Those longed-for, glorious graves, We dare not shrink from slavery's chain To leave our children slaves! But when this scene of awful woe Has neared its final close, As God forsook our armies, so May He forsake our foes!
February 24, May 1, O waken, dearest, wake! May 4, July 28, December 18, December 19, March 2, But, oh! With her own hand she bent the bow, That laid my best affections low, Then mocked my grief and scorned my prayers, And drowned my bloom of youth in tears. Warnings, reproaches, both were vain; What recked she of another's pain?
My dearer self she would not spare; From Honour's voice she turned his ear; First made her love his only stay, And then snatched the treacherous prop away. Back maddening thought! Unarmed, as helpless as a child, She slumbered on a sunny lea; Two friends; no other guard had she; And they were wandering on the braes; And chasing, in regardless glee, The wild goat o'er his dangerous ways. Her friends fade first, that she may drain A deeper cup of bitterer pain; Yonder they stand and watch the waves Dash in among the echoing caves.
Their farewell sight of earth and sea; Come, Douglas, rise and go with me. The lark sang clearly overhead, And sweetly hummed the bee; And softly round their dying bed The wind blew from the sea. Fair Surry would have raised her eyes To see that water shine; To see once more in mountain skies The summer sun decline;. But ever on her fading cheek The languid lid would close, As weary that such sight should break Its much-desired repose. And hardly could her mind recall The thought of joy or pain; That cloud was gathering over all Which never clears again;.
In vain—in vain—you need not gaze Upon those features now! That sinking head you need not raise, Nor kiss that pulseless brow. Let out the grief that shakes your breath; Lord Lesley, let it free; The sternest eye for such a death Might fill with sympathy. The tresses, o'er her bosom spread, Were by a faint breeze blown; 'Her heart is beating,' Lesley said, 'She is not really gone. And still that form he fondly pressed, And still of hope he dreamed, Nor marked how from his own young breast Life's crimson current streamed. The corse grew heavy on his arm, The starry heaven grew dim, The summer night so mild and warm Felt wintry chill to him.
A troubled shadow o'er his eye Came down, and rested there; The moors and sky went swimming by, Confused and strange and drear. He faintly prayed, 'O Death, delay Thy last fell dart to throw, Till I can hear my sovereign say The traitors' heads are low! Then came the cry of agony, The pang of parting pain; And he had overpassed the sea, That none can pass again. Heather banks around him rose; Bright and warm the sunshine fell On that spot of sweet repose. With the blue heaven bending o'er And the soft wind singing by, And the clear stream evermore Mingling harmony.
On the shady side reclined He watched its waters play, And sound and sight had well combined To banish gloom away. A voice spoke near. They wait not long, the rustling heath Betrays their royal foe; With hurried step and panting breath, And cheek almost as white as death, Augusta sprang below. I have wrongs to pay,' she said; 'Give life, give vigour now. And brightly with that draught came back The glory of her matchless eye As glancing o'er the moorland track, She shook her head impatiently.
Nor shape—nor shade—the mountain flocks Quietly fed in grassy dells; Nor sound, except the distant rocks Echoing to their bells. She turns—she meets the murderer's gaze; Her own is scorched with a sudden blaze. The blood streams down her brow; The blood streams through her coal-black hair, She strikes it off with little care; She scarcely feels the flow; For she has marked and known him too, And his own heart's ensanguined dew Must slake her vengeance now! False friend! False Love! Was it a deadly swoon? Or was her spirit really gone? And the cold corse beneath the moon Laid like another mass of dust and stone?
The moon was full that night, The sky was almost light like day; You might have seen the pulses play Upon her forehead white;. You might have seen the dear, dear light of life In her uncovered eye; And her cheek changing in the mortal strife Betwixt the pain to live and agony to die. But nothing mutable was there! Long he gazed and held his breath, Kneeling on the blood-stained heath; Long he gazed those lids beneath, Looking into Death!
Not a word from his followers fell; They stood by mute and pale; That black treason uttered well Its own heart-harrowing tale. But earth was bathed in other gore; There were crimson drops across the moor, And Lord Eldred glancing round, Saw those tokens on the ground. Nothing of heaven or earth to show One sign of sympathising woe, And nothing but that agony In her now unconscious eye, To weigh upon the labouring breast And prove she did not pass at rest. But he who watched in thought had gone, Retracing back her lifetime flown; Like sudden ghosts, to memory came Full many a face, and many a name, Full many a heart, that in the tomb, He almost deemed, might have throbbed again Had they but known her dreary doom, Had they but seen their idol then, A wreck of desolate despair, Left to the wild birds of the air, And mountain winds and rain!
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For him—no tear his stern eye shed As he looked down upon the dead. Cold as the earth, unweeting now Of love, or joy, or mortal woe. Rosina , this had never been Except for you, my dearest queen! Except for you the billowy sea Would now be tossing under me. The wind's wild voice my bosom thrill And my glad heart bound wilder still. Flying before the rapid gale, Those wondrous southern Isles to hail, Which wait for my companions free, But thank your passion—not for me! You know too well—and so do I, Your naughty beauty's sovereignty, Yet have I read these falcon eyes, Have dived into their mysteries, Have studied long their glance and feel It is not love those eyes reveal.
They flash, they beam with lightning shine, But not with such fond fire as mine; The tender star fades faint and wan Before Ambition's scorching sun. So deem I now—and time will prove If I have wronged Rosina's love. November 11, I know that to-night the wind it is sighing, The soft August wind, over forest and moor; While I in a grave-like chill am lying On the damp black flags of my dungeon floor. I know that the harvest-moon is shining; She neither will soar nor wane for me; Yet I weary, weary, with vain repining, One gleam of her heaven-bright face to see. For this constant darkness is wasting the gladness, Fast wasting the gladness of life away; It gathers up thoughts akin to madness, That never would cloud the world of day.
I chide with my soul—I bid it cherish The feelings it lived on when I was free, But sighing it murmurs, 'Let memory perish, Forget, for my friends have forgotten me. I did think that they were weeping Such tears as I weep—it is not so! Their careless young eyes are closed in sleeping; Their brows are unshadowed, undimmed by woe. Yet let them dream on; tho' dreary dreaming Would haunt my pillow if they were here; And I were laid warmly under the gleaming Of that guardian moon and her comrade star.
Better that I my own fate mourning, Should pine alone in this prison gloom; Then waken free on the summer morning And feel they were suffering this awful doom. A thousand sounds of happiness And only one of real distress, One hardly uttered groan; But that has hushed all vocal joy, Eclipsed the glory of the sky, And made me think that misery Rules in our world alone!
About his face the sunshine glows, And in his hair the south wind blows, And violet and wild woodrose Are sweetly breathing near; Nothing without suggests dismay, If he could force his mind away From tracking farther day by day, The desert of despair. Too truly agonised to weep, His eyes are motionless as sleep; His frequent sighs, long-drawn and deep, Are anguish to my ear.
And I would soothe—but can I call The cold corpse from its funeral pall, And cause a gleam of hope to fall With my consoling tear? So many spirits driven Through this false world, their all had given To win the everlasting haven For sufferers so divine: Why didst thou smite the loved, the blest, The ardent, and the happy breast, That full of life desired not rest, And shrank appalled from thine?
At least, since thou wilt not restore, In mercy launch one arrow more; Life's conscious death it wearies sore, It tortures worse than thee. Enough if storms have bowed his head, Grant him at last a quiet bed Beside his early stricken dead; Even where he yearns to be!
April 22, Can we not woo back old delights? But where is he to-day, to-day? O hinder me by no delay! My horse is weary of the way, And still his breast must stem the tide Whose waves are foaming far and wide. Leagues off I heard their thundering roar, As fast they burst upon the shore; A stronger steed than mine might dread To brave them in their boiling bed. Here with my knee upon the stone I bid adieu to feelings gone; I leave with thee my tears and pain, And rush into the world again.
O come again! How loud the storm sounds round the hall! And first an hour of mournful musing, And then a gush of bitter tears; And then a dreary calm diffusing Its deadly mist o'er joys and cares.