Praise of the Dog: An Anthology

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G. Richards, 1902 - 232 sidor
 

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Sida 73 - Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; His soul proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way...
Sida 131 - The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high...
Sida 118 - The appalled discoverer, with a sigh, Looks round to learn the history. From those abrupt and perilous rocks The man had fallen — that place of fear ! At length upon the shepherd's mind It breaks, and all is clear ; He instantly recalled the name, And who he was and whence he came; Remembered, too, the very day On which the traveller passed this way.
Sida 160 - Near this spot Are deposited the Remains Of one Who Possessed Beauty Without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man Without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over Human Ashes, Is but a just tribute to the Memory of "Boatswain," a Dog Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey Nov. 18, 1808.
Sida 117 - With something, as the Shepherd thinks, Unusual in its cry : Nor is there any one in sight All round, in Hollow or on Height ; Nor Shout, nor whistle strikes his ear ; What is the Creature doing here ? It was a Cove, a huge Recess, That keeps till June December's snow A lofty Precipice in front, A silent Tarn* below...
Sida 74 - Yet simple Nature to his hope has given, Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven; Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, Some happier island in the watery waste, Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire, He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Sida 20 - Lear. The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.
Sida 83 - Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song ; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray.
Sida 136 - Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide ; All was still, save, by fits, when the eagle was yelling, And starting around me the echoes replied. On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending, And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer had died.
Sida 118 - How nourished here through such long time He knows, who gave that love sublime, And gave that strength of feeling, great Above all human estimate.

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