Paul Pendril: Or, Sport and Adventure in Corsica

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R. Bentley, 1866 - 304 páginas
 

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Página 142 - The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and bear away.
Página 227 - For time at last sets all things even — And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong.
Página 206 - MAGNIFICENT Creature ! so stately and bright ! In the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy flight ; For what hath the child of the desert to dread, Wafting up his own mountains that far-beaming head ; Or borne like a whirlwind down on the vale ? — Hail ! King of the wild and the beautiful ! — hail ! Hail ! Idol divine ! — whom Nature hath borne O'er a hundred hill-tops since the mists of the morn, Whom the pilgrim lone wandering on mountain and moor, As the vision glides by him, may blameless adore...
Página 306 - STANFORD UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES CECIL H. GREEN LIBRARY STANFORD, CALIFORNIA 94305.6004 (415) 723.1493 All books may be recalled after 7 days DATE DUE...
Página 92 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet: Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Página 170 - When Haidee threw herself her boy before; Stern as her sire, "On me," she cried, "let death Descend — the fault is mine; this fatal shore He found — but sought not. I have pledged my faith; I love him — I will die with him: I knew 335 Your nature's firmness — know your daughter's too.
Página 285 - Where throbbing hearts may sink to rest, Where life's long journey turns to sleep, Nor ever pilgrim wakes to weep. A little sod, a few sad flowers, A tear for long-departed hours, Is all that feeling hearts request To hush their weary thoughts to rest.
Página 32 - Everything else was petty and contemptible, compared with it. Russia, if not in his power, was at least in his influence. Prussia was at his beck — Italy was his vassal — Holland was in his grasp — Spain at his nod — Turkey in his toils — Portugal at his feet.
Página 242 - Then they fought four hours in a long summer day, Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; Till the wild boar fain would have got him away From Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter. Then Sir Ryalas drawed his broad sword with might, Wind well thy horn, good hunter ; And he fairly cut the boar's head off quite, For he was a jovial hunter.
Página 9 - WB MBL in the second quotation at p. 150 may have in his mind the lines in 'The Boatman ' by Pisistratus Caxton (first Earl Lytton), published in Blackwood, December, 1863 :— the sport of man's strife Gives the zest to man's life, Without it his manhood dies ; Be it jewel or toy, Not the prize gives the joy, But the striving to win the prize.

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