The Sporting review, ed. by 'Craven'.

Predný obal
John William Carleton
1868

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Strana 276 - I'd have you remember that when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at the window.
Strana 206 - Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil: His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow; But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe. Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near; From out the broad and wrinkled skull like daggers, they appear...
Strana 111 - Ah ! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven, When drooping health and spirits go amiss ! How tasteless then whatever can be given ! Health is the vital principle of bliss, And exercise of health. In proof of this, Behold the wretch who slugs his life away, Soon swallowed in Disease's sad abyss, While he whom Toil has braced, or manly play, Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as day.
Strana 205 - The onset of the beasts abide, as they come rushing through. The deeds they've done, the spoils they've won, fill all with hope and trust; Yet, ere high in heaven appears the sun, they all have bit the dust.
Strana 425 - See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
Strana 360 - If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work ; But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
Strana 205 - He hath summoned all the Moorish lords from the hills and plains around ; From Vega and Sierra, from Betis and Xenil, They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted steel.
Strana 249 - Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes ; When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes : Compounds a medley of disjointed things, A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings : Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad : Both are the reasonable soul run mad : And many monstrous forms in sleep we see, That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be.
Strana 121 - A boding silence reigns, Dread through the dun expanse, save the dull sound That from the mountain, previous to the storm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath. Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce Dares wing the dubious dusk.
Strana 264 - And I love it. I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and, I believe, Dorothy (taking her hand), you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.

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