A perambulation of the antient & royal forest of Dartmoor, and the Venville precincts

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1848
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Page 12 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses ; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Page 160 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to sooth, * And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 89 - So it came to pass in the day of battle, that there was neither sword nor spear found in the hand of any of the people that were with Saul and Jonathan : but with Saul and with Jonathan his son was there found.
Page 283 - I oft have heard of Lydford law, How in the morn they hang and draw. And sit in judgment after.
Page 108 - Scarce images of life, one here, one there, Lay vast and edgeways; like a dismal cirque Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, In dull November, and their chancel vault, The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night.
Page 98 - See the grisly texture grow, ("Tis of human entrails made,) And the weights, that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along Sword, that once a Monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong.
Page 252 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Page 37 - This heap be witness, and this pillar be witness, that I will not pass over this heap to thee, and that thou shalt not pass over this heap and this pillar unto me, for harm.
Page 1 - Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
Page 11 - ... a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths, that spring out of valleys and hills; A land of wheat and barley, and vines, and fig trees and pomegranates; a land of oil olive, and honey.

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