The New sporting magazine, Том 16

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Сторінка 261 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher, From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Сторінка 153 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Сторінка 262 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Сторінка 395 - While the Cock, with lively din, Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the...
Сторінка 120 - Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue ; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream.
Сторінка 200 - And angling, too, that solitary vice, Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.
Сторінка 77 - stead of saying what you now should do, Own they foresaw that you would fall at last, And solace your slight lapse 'gainst " bonos mores," With a long memorandum of old stories.
Сторінка 225 - Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavour.
Сторінка 120 - Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.
Сторінка 120 - Grouped their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain. With boughs that quaked at every breath...

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