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Travels on Horseback in Mantchu Tartary: Being a Summer's Ride Beyond the ...
No preview available - 2015
animals appeared banks blue body brick CELTIC MUSIC Chinaman Chinese civilisation clothing cold colour comfort conical straw hat coolie corner cotton courtyard crowd curious dark door dynasty Emperor everything eyes face favourable feet fellow front gate gave ground hand head heavy hills houses labour Lan-ho Lanchow land landlord legs less light looked Ma-foo maize mandarin manner Mantchu matchlocks mental bands Middle Kingdom miles millet Ming dynasty mountains mouth mules narrow nation native nature nearly neck never night North China ourselves Pariah dog passed Peiho Peking plain pleasant ponies quadrupeds ready river road roof saddle scarcely seemed seen side sleep soldiers sort standing stone stood strange straw streets Tartar temple thick thin thoroughfare Tien-tsin town travelling trees village wall weather wide willows wonderful wooden
Page 213 - Along the woods, along the moorish fens, Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm; And up among the loose disjointed cliffs And fractured mountains wild, the brawling brook And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, Resounding long in listening fancy's ear.
Page 59 - When I think of death, Mr Morton, as a thing worth thinking of, it is in the hope of pressing one day some well-fought and hard-won field of battle, and dying with the shout of victory in my ear — that would be worth dying for, and more, it would be worth having lived for...
Page 195 - Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not ; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks its motion in this hush of Nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit By its own moods interprets, everywhere Echo or mirror seeking of itself, And makes a toy of Thought.
Page 109 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Page 38 - When beggars die there are no comets seen ; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Page 157 - twere vain to tell, But gaze on that of the Gazelle, It will assist thy fancy well, As large, as languishingly dark, But Soul beam'd forth in every spark...
Page 71 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower.
Page 65 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Page 195 - This populous village ! Sea, and hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings on of life Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low burnt fire, and quivers not ; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.