Spring-tide: Or, The Angler and His FriendsR. Bentley, 1850 - 192 страници |
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Страница 6
... sing . " S. Ay , ay : he who wrote the lines- " Can grave and formal pass for wise , When we the solemn owl despise ? " was a Cockney , and knew nothing of the bird . Minerva did not despise him when she adopted him for her crest , and ...
... sing . " S. Ay , ay : he who wrote the lines- " Can grave and formal pass for wise , When we the solemn owl despise ? " was a Cockney , and knew nothing of the bird . Minerva did not despise him when she adopted him for her crest , and ...
Страница 32
... sings from the hawthorn that feeds him in the winter . While Nature each season renews her livery , man has but one Spring ; and through the long vista of declining years regards the happy hours of youth as the ... sing of 32 SPRING - TIDE .
... sings from the hawthorn that feeds him in the winter . While Nature each season renews her livery , man has but one Spring ; and through the long vista of declining years regards the happy hours of youth as the ... sing of 32 SPRING - TIDE .
Страница 33
... sing of the cuckoo in our country ? Simon . The cuckoo's a vine bird A zengs as a vlies , A brengs us good tidins , And tells us no lies ; A zucks th ' smael birds ' eggs , To make his voice clear , And the mwore a cries " Cuckoo ...
... sing of the cuckoo in our country ? Simon . The cuckoo's a vine bird A zengs as a vlies , A brengs us good tidins , And tells us no lies ; A zucks th ' smael birds ' eggs , To make his voice clear , And the mwore a cries " Cuckoo ...
Страница 88
... sing with tenfold vehemence as it brightens . The thrush's song , in yonder hawthorn bush , is delightfully sweet . S. Yes , he has already breakfasted on the snails which this humid morning has tempted to venture forth . The angler ...
... sing with tenfold vehemence as it brightens . The thrush's song , in yonder hawthorn bush , is delightfully sweet . S. Yes , he has already breakfasted on the snails which this humid morning has tempted to venture forth . The angler ...
Страница 91
... the lark and the thrush singing delightfully on a warm day in January . These birds are moved to sing by various sounds - you will often find them swelling their little throats , pent up in cages , in the noisiest THIRD DAY . 91.
... the lark and the thrush singing delightfully on a warm day in January . These birds are moved to sing by various sounds - you will often find them swelling their little throats , pent up in cages , in the noisiest THIRD DAY . 91.
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Често срещани думи и фрази
acquaintance agen ancient angler Anglo-Saxon appears auver bank beautiful believe breeches cast cockney confess coomed creatures cuckoo dialect dree drowed dwont elder England Exeunt favourite fish rising fly-fisher girt give Grumbler haunt hear heard Hlinc hooked insects Jack Julian laast landing-net language large trout lark leetle London look marnin May-fly meadows Measter minnow morning mwore neighbourhood neighbours nest never Ockle owld pannier perch Piers Ploughman pike plough plunge poacher pond post 8vo pounds pounds weight prey RACTERS redbreast RICHARD BENTLEY river river-side robin Roundhead Saxon scenes season SENEX SIMON PARADICE sing smock-frocked snail sport spot story stream tackle tell thee THEODORE HOOK There's thrush thuck Tiney titmouse trees trout turned vish vols vrom walk Warwickshire weeds whoame winter word wosbird yonder zays zhure
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Страница 140 - CALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. Call unto his funeral dole The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm And (when gay tombs are...
Страница 62 - Better than such discourse doth silence long, Long, barren silence, square with my desire ; To sit without emotion, hope, or aim, In the loved presence of my cottage-fire, And listen to the flapping of the flame, Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.
Страница xvi - It is good in discourse, and speech of conversation, to vary, and intermingle speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest; for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade any thing too /far.
Страница 105 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Страница 39 - The insect youth are on the wing, Eager to taste the honied spring, And float amid the liquid noon: Some lightly o'er the current skim, Some show their gaily-gilded trim Quick-glancing to the sun.
Страница 175 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Страница 167 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and, wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Страница 64 - Be full, ye courts; be great, who will; Search for Peace with all your skill. Open wide the lofty door ; Seek her on the marble floor; In vain you search : she is not there ; In vain ye search the domes of Care.
Страница 32 - Still glides the stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish; — be it so! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Страница 30 - Go, let the diving negro seek For gems, hid in some forlorn creek : We all pearls scorn, Save what the dewy morn Congeals upon each little spire of grass, Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass : And gold ne'er here appears, Save what the yellow Ceres bears.