The Poetry of Sport

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Hedley Peek
Longmans, Green & Company, 1901 - 420 страници

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Страница 180 - MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Страница 109 - With yielding hand, That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage : Till floating broad upon his breathless side, And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
Страница 398 - Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; This it is and nothing more.
Страница 108 - High to their fount, this day, amid the hills, And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks ; The next, pursue their rocky-channel'd maze, Down to the river, in whose ample wave Their little naiads love to sport at large.
Страница 193 - Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, And foresters have busy been To track the buck in thicket green : Now we come to chant our lay,
Страница 96 - Th' impatient courser pants in every vein, And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
Страница 82 - Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend : God never made His work for man to mend.
Страница 131 - Tinkled like iron ; while far-distant hills Into the tumult sent an alien sound Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west The orange sky of evening died away. Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sportively Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng To cut across the reflex of a star That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed Upon the glassy plain...
Страница 112 - With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. What shall he do ? His once so vivid nerves, So full of buoyant spirit, now no more Inspire the course ; but fainting breathless toil, Sick, seizes on his heart : he stands at bay ; And puts his last weak refuge in despair. The big round tears run down his dappled face ; He groans in anguish ; while the growling pack, Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, And mark his beauteous chequered sides with gore.
Страница 100 - To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride ; Let Nature guide thee ! sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require ; The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail. Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings, And lends the growing insect proper wings : Silks of all colours must their aid impart, And every fur promote the fisher's art.

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