A pedestrian tour of thirteen hundred and forty-seven miles through Wales and England, by Pedestres, and sir Clavileno Woodenpeg, knight of Snowdon

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Page 7 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, . Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 33 - This was the most unkindest cut of all ; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors...
Page 240 - Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view; The fountain's fall, the river's flow, The woody valleys, warm and low ; The windy summit, wild and high, Roughly rushing on the sky! The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, The naked rock, the shady bower ; The town and village, dome and farm, Each give each a double charm, As pearls upon an ^Ethiop's arm.
Page 382 - Where'er we gaze, around, above, below, What rainbow tints, what magic charms are found : Rock, river, forest, mountain, all abound, And bluest skies that harmonize the whole : Beneath, the distant torrent's rushing sound Tells where the volumed cataract doth roll Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.
Page 225 - Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen. Ah, me ! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates...
Page 40 - Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw and 'tis thou who lift'st him up to HEAVEN Eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me...
Page 189 - The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait...
Page 15 - And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes...
Page 169 - THERE is in souls a sympathy with sounds, And as the mind is pitched the ear is pleased With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave. Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touched within us, and the heart replies.
Page 40 - Eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me" not, that in some sad and sickening moments, "my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction" mere pomp of words! but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself all comes from thee, great great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation...

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