London, by David Hughson

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Page 434 - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repaired with straw, With tape-tied curtains never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies...
Page 374 - Now to the sister hills that skirt her plain, To lofty Harrow now, and now to where Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. In lovely contrast to this glorious view, Calmly magnificent, then will we turn To where the silver Thames first rural grows. There let the feasted eye unwearied stray; Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat...
Page 434 - Shrewsbury and love; Or just as gay at council, in a ring Of mimic statesmen, and their merry king. No wit to flatter, left of all his store! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends!
Page 3 - With which she calculates, computes and scans All distance, motion, magnitude, and now Measures an atom, and now girds a world? In London ; where has commerce such a mart, So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied, As London— opulent, enlarged, and still Increasing London?
Page 415 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner...
Page 11 - madam I may not call you, mistress I am ashamed to call you, and so I know not what to call you ; but, howsoever, I thank you.
Page 203 - RICHARD WATTS, Esq. by his Will, dated 22 Aug. 1579, founded this Charity for Six poor Travellers, who not being ROGUES, or PROCTORS, May receive gratis for one Night, Lodging, Entertainment, and Fourpence each.
Page 349 - Cooper's Hill is the work that confers upon him the rank and dignity of an original author. He seems to have been, at least among us, the author of a species of composition that may be denominated local poetry, of which the fundamental subject is some particular landscape, to be poetically described, with the addition of such embellishments as may be supplied by historical retrospection or incidental meditation.
Page 374 - Father of light and life, Thou Good Supreme ! O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself ! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low pursuit ; and feed my soul With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure, Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss...
Page 464 - Lord, I am a great deal older than your Grace, " and have, I believe, heard more arguments for " Atheism than ever your Grace did ; but I have " lived long enough to see there is nothing in them ; " and so, I hope, your Grace will.

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