The noble science: a few general ideas on fox-hunting


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Page 144 - 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 136 - 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.
Page 65 - 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 238 - 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 61 - 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 144 - Its neighbour's glass — where Gladness sees itself, And at the bright reflection grows more glad ! Breaks into tenfold mirth ! — laughs like a child ! Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free ! Would scarce accept a kingdom, 'tis so rich ! Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew That life was life before ! Wild.
Page 96 - 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 26 - Nutrita faustis sub penetralibus Posset, quid Augusti paternus In pueros animus Nerones. Fortes creantur fortibus et bonis ; Est in juvencis, est in equis patrum Virtus...
Page 168 - The fox has not hung an instant, he has threaded only the quarter of the covert where he was found, where he was well found, and so well pressed, that it is too hot to hold him. Like a gallant fellow he has faced the open ; .without a turn he has resolved upon a run for his life; the field have...

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