Beauties of the Country: Or, Descriptions of Rural Customs, Objects, Scenery, and the Seasons |
From inside the book
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Page vii
... hear the answer of a hundred old Druids , and the bards of our in- spired ancestors . In a word , so charmed were poets with those natural shades , that they honoured temples with the names of groves . In walks and shades of trees poets ...
... hear the answer of a hundred old Druids , and the bards of our in- spired ancestors . In a word , so charmed were poets with those natural shades , that they honoured temples with the names of groves . In walks and shades of trees poets ...
Page 1
... flowers , And babbling tongues in foamy floods , And dreamy tones in falling showers ; - In everything we hear and see A deep , a thrilling oratʼry . B Oh deem not that the forest - glen , With BEAUTIES OF THE COUNTRY Page.
... flowers , And babbling tongues in foamy floods , And dreamy tones in falling showers ; - In everything we hear and see A deep , a thrilling oratʼry . B Oh deem not that the forest - glen , With BEAUTIES OF THE COUNTRY Page.
Page 2
... hears no sound of pain or strife , But calmly dreams his life away In converse with the bards and sages , Or reading good old Walton's pages ! How sweet on autumn eves to roam , When the trees wear the rainbow's dye ; To hear the shout ...
... hears no sound of pain or strife , But calmly dreams his life away In converse with the bards and sages , Or reading good old Walton's pages ! How sweet on autumn eves to roam , When the trees wear the rainbow's dye ; To hear the shout ...
Page 3
... hear the distant laughter sound , And see some snowy kirtle glide , Or happy group sit on the ground : All merry , noisy nutters they , Who through the tangling forest stray . The loud song of the rural swain , Or clap of some old ...
... hear the distant laughter sound , And see some snowy kirtle glide , Or happy group sit on the ground : All merry , noisy nutters they , Who through the tangling forest stray . The loud song of the rural swain , Or clap of some old ...
Page 16
... hear the sweet birds sing , And when the flowers are beginning for to spring , Farewell unto my book and my devotion , For now then have I also this condition , That , above all the flowers in the mead , Then love I most those flowers ...
... hear the sweet birds sing , And when the flowers are beginning for to spring , Farewell unto my book and my devotion , For now then have I also this condition , That , above all the flowers in the mead , Then love I most those flowers ...
Common terms and phrases
appearance autumn banks beautiful bees beneath birds bloom blossoms blue boughs branches breath bright buds chaffinch Christmas clouds colours cowslip cuckoo daisies dark deep delight dogs earth eyes feel feet fieldfares fields flowers foliage forest fragrance garden gaze gipsies grass green hand happy hath head heard heart heath heaven hedge heigh-ho hills hive Idlesse insects Izaak Walton Julius Cæsar labour leaf leaves Leigh Hunt light Lincolnshire look Maid Marian May-pole meadows merry month morning murmur Nabal Nature nest never night o'er pleasant pleasure poetry purple quadrupeds queen rich ringdove Robin Hood rose round says scene scenery season seems seen shade sheep-shearing sight silent singing sleep song sound spring stone-curlew stream summer sweet thee thou throws titmouse trees valleys voice walk wander waving weather wild wind wings winter Woodcock woods yellow young
Popular passages
Page 175 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Page 13 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Page 263 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 165 - With mazy error under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain...
Page 174 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness...
Page 152 - To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, And, sweet as Flora...
Page 283 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Page 283 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Page 258 - Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream...
Page 283 - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring . Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night...