The poetical works of C.B. Ash, Band 1

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Longman & Company, 1831

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Seite 254 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Seite 158 - ... must ever leave it. As he looks up to the rocks, his thoughts are elevated ; as he turns his eyes on the vallies, he is composed and soothed. He that mounts the precipices at Hawkestone, wonders how he came thither, and doubts how he shall return. His walk is an adventure, and his departure an escape. He has not the tranquillity, but the horrors, of solitude ; a kind of turbulent pleasure, between fright and admiration.
Seite 158 - Dovedale by the extent of its prospects, the awfulness of its shades, the horrors of its precipices, the verdure of its hollows, and the loftiness of its rocks : the ideas which it forces upon the mind are the sublime, the dreadful, and the vast. Above is inaccessible altitude, below is horrible profundity ; but it excels the garden of Ham only in extent.
Seite 157 - We saw Hawkestone, the seat of Sir Rowland Hill ," and were conducted by Miss Hill over a large tract of rocks and woods; a region abounding with striking scenes and terrific grandeur. We were always on the brink of a precipice, or at the foot of a lofty rock; but the steeps were seldom naked : in many places, oaks of uncommon magnitude shot up from the crannies of stone; and where there were no trees, there were underwoods and bushes.
Seite 148 - Honour and shame from no condition rise ; Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Seite 258 - From whence he vaulted into th' seat, With so much vigor, strength, and heat, That he had almost tumbled over With his own weight, but did recover, By laying hold on tail and mane, Which oft he used instead of rein.
Seite 141 - The existence of a God is so far from being a thing that wants to be proved, that I think it the only thing of which we are certain.
Seite 158 - He that mounts the precipices at Hawkestone wonders how he came thither, and doubts how he shall return — His walk is an adventure, and his departure an escape — He has not the tranquillity, but the horrors, of solitude; a kind of turbulent pleasure, between fright and admiration.
Seite 258 - Chief of domestic knights, and errant, Either for chartel or for warrant; Great on the bench, great in the saddle, That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle: Mighty he was at both of these, And styl'd of War as well as Peace.
Seite 143 - tis understood what we do mean For good and honest! they abuse our scene, And say we live by vice, indeed 'tis true, As the physicians by diseases do, Only to cure them.

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