The Beauties of England and Wales: Or, Delineations, Topographical, Historical, and Descriptive, of Each County, Volume 6

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Verner & Hood, 1805

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Page 507 - Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who tanght that heaven-directed spire to rise ?
Page 292 - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
Page 384 - Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss • No more confined to grov'ling scenes of night, No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, And trace thy journey to the realms of day.
Page 145 - Few men have left behind such purity of character, or such monuments of laborious piety. He has provided instruction for all ages, from those who are lisping their first lessons, to the enlightened readers of Malbranche and Locke ; he has left neither corporeal nor spiritual nature unexamined ; he has taught the Art of Reasoning, and the Science of the Stars.
Page 155 - Nimrod first the bloody chase began, A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : Our haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name, And makes his trembling slaves the royal game. The fields are ravish'd from th...
Page 291 - I can always answer, because I always know whence they have their arguments, which I have read a hundred times ; but that fellow Young is continually pestering me with something of his own."* After all, Tindal and the censurers of Young may be reconcilable.
Page 508 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting. martlet, does approve, By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, The air is delicate.
Page 507 - ... The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross...
Page 155 - The fields are ravish'd from th' industrious swains, From men their cities, and from gods their fanes: The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er; The hollow winds through naked temples roar; Round broken columns clasping ivy...
Page 507 - But clear and artless, pouring through the plain, Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that Heaven-directed spire to rise ? " The Man of Ross,

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