The worthies of Westmorland: or, notable persons born in that county since the Reformation, Volume 2

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Page 28 - spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ! The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sate by his fire, and talked the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won : Pleas'd with his guests, the good man
Page 28 - talked the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won : Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, His pity gave, ere charity began.
Page 340 - vital lamp; but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the
Page 28 - but reliev'd their pain : The long-remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; The ruiu'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ! The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Page 28 - how fields were won : Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, His pity gave, ere charity began.
Page 341 - Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.
Page 51 - Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wing; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreproved.
Page 287 - The Poetic Genius of my country found me, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha, at the plough, and threw her inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes, and rural pleasures of my native soil, in my native tongue. I tuned my wild artless notes as she
Page 222 - this is but Talbot's shadow:— ... ..." His substance is not here; For what you see is but the smallest part, And least proportion of humanity; But were the whole frame here, It is of such a spacious, lofty pitch, Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.
Page 28 - His house was known to all the vagrant train; He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain : The long-remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast; The

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