The Cambrian traveller's guide, and pocket companion [by G. Nicholson].

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Page 125 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 351 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 341 - While strayed my eyes o'er Towy's flood, Over mead and over wood, From house to house, from hill to hill, Till contemplation had her fill.
Page 548 - Statesman, yet friend to truth ; of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear ; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title,' and who lost no friend ; Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, And prais'd, unenvied, by the Muse he lov'd.
Page 37 - ... rubbish; the noise of picking the ore from the rock, and of hammering the wadding when it was about to be blasted; with, at intervals, the roar of the blasts in distant parts of the mine, altogether excited the most sublime ideas, intermixed, however, with sensations of terror. " I left this situation, and followed the road that leads into the mine; and the moment I entered, m^astonishment was again excited.
Page 391 - A little lowly hermitage it was, Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side, Far from resort of people, that did pass In travel to and fro : a little wide There was...
Page 324 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 118 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Page 196 - Life was spent with serving you, and you, A nd death's my pay (it seems) and welcome too. R evenge destroying but itself, while I T o birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly. E xamples preach to th' eye, care then (mine says) N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.
Page 194 - The beauties are so uncommonly excellent, that the most exact critic in landscape would scarcely wish to alter a position in the assemblage of woods, cliffs, ruins, and water.

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