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Scenes and Tales of Country Life with Recollections of Natural History
Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2012
affection afforded amongst Angler animals appear arrival banks beautiful beech benevolent bower Bushy Park called Captain Neville charms cheerful cottage Creator curious delight Dick Edition eggs endeavour England evidently fact favourite Fcap 8vo feed feelings feet female fish flight flowers forest garden Gilbert White ground habits Hampton Court Park happy hawk heard Herne's Oak heron insects instance instinct Isaac Walton kind king late look lover Lucy magpie Mendip Hills mind mistletoe morning mound Natural History naturalist neighbourhood nest never night numbers observed Park peculiar Phoebe pleasure poet poor Post 8vo probably quadrupeds racter Richmond Park river scene scenery seen shade shew shewn side sometimes song soon species spider spot spring stoat swallows sweet thing thrush tion Titmouse tree utter Vicar vols walks Walton watched Windsor Windsor Great Park wings wood Woodcuts young
Сторінка 48 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner...
Сторінка 288 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Сторінка 172 - Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects
Сторінка 88 - THERE are no colours in the fairest sky So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.
Сторінка 243 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Сторінка 100 - For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell, Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Сторінка 19 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Сторінка 240 - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Сторінка 238 - O NIGHTINGALE that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.