The Sporting review, ed. by 'Craven'.

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John William Carleton
 

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Strona 87 - By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw; And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track: Twas Autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that...
Strona 24 - Yes ! where is he, the Champion and the Child Of all that's great or little, wise or wild ? Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones ? Whose table, earth — whose dice were human bones ? Behold the grand result in yon lone isle, And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile.
Strona 25 - IT is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself, says Cowley ; ~ it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ears to hear anything of praise from him.
Strona 94 - Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man ; Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell How, when, and where, the monster fell ; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar.
Strona 96 - For talents mourn, untimely lost, When best employed and wanted most; Mourn genius high, and lore profound, And wit that loved to play, not wound ; And all the reasoning powers divine, To penetrate, resolve, combine ; And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, They sleep with him who sleeps below...
Strona 95 - Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game ; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch ; Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the quarry strain.
Strona 82 - I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
Strona 98 - First let the kennel be the huntsman's care, Upon some little eminence erect, And fronting to the ruddy dawn ; its courts On either hand wide opening to receive The Sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines, And gilds the mountain tops.
Strona 87 - ... class, employed upon the same authors, and enjoined the same tasks ! Whatever their natural genius may be, they are all to be made poets, historians, and orators alike. They are all obliged to have the same capacity, to bring in the same tale of verse, and to furnish out the same portion of prose. Every boy is bound to have as good a memory as the captain of the form.
Strona 94 - The antlered monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dewdrops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high...

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