Travels on Horseback in Mantchu Tartary: Being a Summer's Ride Beyond the Great Wall of China

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Hurst and Blackett, 1863 - China - 579 pages
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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 409 - Resides in that heavenly word! More precious than silver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard, Never sighed at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a sabbath appeared.
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.

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