Letters written during a tour through North Wales, in the year 1798, and at other times: containing views of the history, antiquities, and customs of that part of the principality, and interpersed with observations on its scenery, agriculture, botany, mineralogy, trade and manufactures

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Printed for C. and R. Baldwin, 1804 - 415 sider
 

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Side 317 - Big with the vanity of state; But transient is the smile of fate! A little rule, a little sway, A sunbeam in a winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have Between the cradle and the grave. And see the rivers how they run, Thro...
Side 282 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Side 24 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
Side 317 - That cast an awful look below ; Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps, And with her arms from falling keeps : So both a safety from the wind On mutual dependence find. 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ; Tis now th...
Side 401 - I am thy father's spirit ; Doom'd, for a certain term, to walk the night ; And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burn'd and purg'd away.
Side 163 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal...
Side 163 - Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, And drags the struggling savage into day. At night returning, every labour sped, He sits him down, the monarch of a shed...
Side 18 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Side iii - O Nature, how in every charm supreme ! Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! O for the voice and fire of seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due ! Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling Crew, From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus...
Side 249 - No more its arches echo to the noise Of joy and festive mirth. No more the glance Of blazing taper through its windows beams, And quivers on the undulating wave : But naked stand the melancholy walls, Lash'd by the wintry tempests, cold and bleak, That whistle mournful thro' the empty halls, And piece-meal crumble down the tow'rs to dust.

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