Black's picturesque guide to the English lakes (Google eBook)

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Page 148 - I have been bullied by an usurper, I have been neglected by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject ; your man shan't stand. " ANNE, DORSET, PEMBRoKE,
Page 166 - Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise: Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, Women and fools must like him or he dies; Though wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke, The Club must hail him master of the joke.
Page 143 - For a sheet of flame, from the turret high, Waved like a blood-flag on the sky, All flaring and uneven ; And soon a score of fires, I ween, From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen ; Each with warlike tidings fraught ; Each from each the signal caught ; Each after each they glanced to sight, As stars arise upon the night. They gleam'd on many a dusky tarn, Haunted by the lonely earn ; On many a cairn's grey pyramid, Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid...
Page 14 - Then peers grew proud in horsemanship t' excel, Newmarket's glory rose, as Britain's fell ; The soldier breath'd the gallantries of France, And ev'ry flowery courtier writ romance. Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm, And yielding metal flow'd to human form : Lely on animated canvas stole The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.
Page 133 - How nourished here through such long time He knows, who gave that love sublime ; And gave that strength of feeling, great Above all human estimate ! t 1805.
Page 148 - Which still records beyond the pencil's power, The silent sorrows of a parting hour; Still to the musing pilgrim points the place Her sainted spirit most delights to trace? Thus, with the manly glow of honest pride, O'er his dead son the gallant ORMOND sighed. Thus, thro' the gloom of SHENSTONE'S fairy grove, MARIA'S urn still breathes the voice of love.
Page 166 - Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt; And most contemptible to shun contempt; His passion still, to covet general praise, His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways ; A constant bounty which no friend has made; An angel tongue, which no man can persuade! A fool, with more of wit than half mankind, Too rash for thought, for action too refined...
Page 72 - I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history; And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie...
Page 120 - Oh, its fine black head, and the bleak air atop of it, with a prospect of mountains all about and about, making you giddy ; and then Scotland afar off, and the border countries so famous in song and ballad ! It was a day that will stand out, like a mountain, I am sure, in my life.
Page 72 - Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to't, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday ; but all things have their end : Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, Must have like death that we have.

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