The Noble Science: A Few General Ideas on Fox-hunting, for the Use of the Rising Generation of Sportsmen, and More Especially Those of the Hertfordshire Hunt Club

R. Ackerman, 1839 - 327 pages

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Page 61 - What delight To back the flying steed, that challenges The wind for speed ! — seems native more of air Than earth ! — whose burden only lends him fire ! — Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport ! Who makes your pastime his ! I sit him now ! He takes away my breath ! — He makes me reel ! I touch not earth — I see not — hear not — All Is ecstasy of motion ! Wild.
Page 104 - Now You keep him well together for a space, Both horse and rider braced as you were one, Scanning the distance — then you give him rein, And let him fly at it, and o'er he goes Light as a bird on wing.
Page 232 - The vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath Inhale the grateful steam, quick pleasures sting Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay, And in triumphant melody confess The titillating joy. Thus on the air Depend the hunter's hopes.
Page 298 - Africum mercator metuens otium et oppidi laudat rura sui: mox reficit rates quassas indocilis pauperiem pati. est qui nee veteris pocula Massici nee partem solido demere de die spernit, nunc viridi membra sub arbuto stratus...
Page 57 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 92 - O'er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brush The thorny-twining hedge: the riders bend O'er their arched necks; with steady hands, by turns Indulge their speed, or moderate their rage. Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs, Vexations, sickness, cares? All, all are gone, And with the panting winds lag far behind.
Page 132 - Bow'd down by degrees, he bends on to his fate ; Blind, old, lean, and feeble, he tugs round a mill, Or draws sand, till the sand of his hour-glass stands still. And now, cold and lifeless, exposed to the view In the very same cart which he yesterday drew ; While a pitying crowd his sad relics surrounds, The high-mettled racer is sold for the hounds ! EVERY MAN'S FRIEND.
Page 143 - Enter ROMEO ROMEO. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
Page 59 - Patiently he would sit by a covert side, where, by his own line, he had arrived about as soon as the sinking fox; there would he view, perhaps, a brace or more away, without the motion of a muscle, till his practised eye would recognise the hunted fox, and then would blithe Echo and other wood nymphs be startled by the scream which would resound his knell, and, like the war-cry of the ancients, would reanimate his pursuers with certainty of conquest.
Page 144 - Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?

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