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The Hunting Grounds of the Old World, by 'the Old Shekarry', H.A.L. by H.A.L ...
Henry Astbury Leveson
Aucun aperçu disponible - 2018
animals appeared arrived bamboo bank bear beautiful bison Bowani bull bush caught cheeta cheroots Chineah Chineah and Googooloo colour coolies Coonoor couple covered dark dead deer dense distance dogs elephants eyes feet female fire followed forest Fred fresh gang gave Googooloo Gooroo Gooty grey partridge grunt head heard herd hill Himalaya horns horses huge hunting ibex inches jungle killed knew ledge legs let drive light look low country miles morning mountain Mulchers musk deer Mussoorie Naga never night noise nullah Ooty paces passed Poligar Ponto ravine reconnoitre rest returned rhododendron rifle river roar rock rolled round route sambur second gun seen shekarry shooting shot shoulder side skin snow soon spare guns spoor spot spotted deer strange stream tail tent tiger trail tree Trichinopoly tusker tusks village Westley Richards whilst wild woods wounded yards
Page 377 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 482 - Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! Let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Page 334 - Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend : God never made His work for man to mend.
Page 482 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD!
Page 81 - Live you ? or are you aught That man may question ? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. — You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
Page 512 - Here we discover those features of chivalry, so admirably ridiculed by Cervantes. But, in times of oppression, when every one followed " the simple plan, That he may take who has the power, And he may keep who can...
Page 458 - They parted - ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Page 25 - Gul in her bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In...
Page 219 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...