The Ruminator: Containing a Series of Moral, Critical, and Sentimental Essays, Volume 2

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1813
 

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Page 201 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 306 - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie, His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills. In him the savage Virtue of the Race, Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead : Nor did he change ; but kept in lofty place The wisdom which adversity had bred. Glad were the Vales, and every cottage hearth ; The Shepherd Lord was honoured more and more: And, ages after he was laid in earth, " The Good Lord Clifford
Page ix - Alas ! regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of Ills to come; Nor Care, beyond to-day! Yet see, how all around them wait The Ministers of human fate; And black Misfortune's baleful Train!
Page viii - Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new, Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky, By chance, or search, was offer'd to his view, He scan'd with curious and romantic eye.
Page 306 - Scot," exclaims the Lance, Bear me to the heart of France, Is the longing of the Shield — Tell thy name, thou trembling Field ; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory ! Happy day, and mighty hour, When our Shepherd, in his power, Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword, To his Ancestors restored, Like a re-appearing Star, Like a glory from afar, First shall head the Flock of War...
Page 159 - I never framed a wish, or formed a plan, That flattered me with hopes of earthly bliss, But there I laid the scene. There early strayed My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice Had found me, or the hope of being free. My very dreams were rural, rural too...
Page 305 - Now another day is come, Fitter hope, and nobler doom; He hath thrown aside his crook, And hath buried deep his book; Armour rusting in his halls On the blood of Clifford calls: 'Quell the Scot! ' exclaims the Lance; 'Bear me to the heart of France...
Page 218 - Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose, Forgery of fancy and a dream of woes ; Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight, Each yielding harmony, disposed aright, The screws reversed, (a task which if he please God in a moment executes with ease,) Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use.
Page 43 - Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tarn maun ride — That hour o...
Page 51 - By him lay heavy Sleep, the cousin of Death, Flat on the ground, and still as any stone, A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath : Small keep took he, whom Fortune frowned on, Or whom she lifted up into the throne Of high renown ; but, as a living death, So, dead alive, of life he drew the breath.

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