Anglers' Evenings, Volumen1

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A. Heywood, 1880 - 276 páginas
 

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Página 240 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die...
Página 261 - Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks, Swell'd with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away, And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctured stream. Descends the billowy foam : now is the time, While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, To tempt the trout. The well dissembled fly, The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line, And all thy slender watery stores prepare.
Página 251 - ... take nothing, yet he enjoyeth a delightful walk by pleasant rivers in sweet pastures, amongst odoriferous flowers, which gratify his senses and delight his mind...
Página 241 - When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower ; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave; Then go — but go alone the while — Then view St David's ruined pile ; And, home returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair ! II.
Página 261 - Which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast Of the weak, helpless, uncomplaining wretch, Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand.
Página 261 - Just in the dubious point, where with the pool Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank Reverted plays in undulating flow, There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly ; And as you lead it round in artful curve, With eye attentive mark the springing game.
Página 262 - When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat: Now, happy fisherman; now twitch the line!
Página 261 - There throw nice-judging the delusive fly : And as you lead it round in artful curve, With eye attentive mark the springing game. Straight as above the surface of the flood They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap, Then fix, with gentle twitch the barbed hook : Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank, And to the shelving shore slow dragging some, With various hand proportion'd to their force.
Página 48 - Time has no meaning except as future or past ; and the present is but the meeting point of the two. Or, once more, suppose that we are gravely told that all circles pass through the same two imaginary points at an infinite distance, and that every line drawn through one of these points is perpendicular to itself. On hearing the statement, we shall probably whisper, with a smile or a sigh, that we hope it is not true ; but that in any case it is a long way off, and perhaps, after all, it does not...
Página 262 - Mark well the various seasons of the year, How the succeeding insect race appear; In this revolving moon one colour reigns, Which in the next the fickle trout disdains. Oft...

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