Evenings in Autumn: On the influence of autumnal scenery over the mind and heart. The Valley of the Rye, a tale. On the poetry of Bernard Barton. Tixhall, or Pictures of the seventeenth century, being observations on "Tixhall poetry", ed. by A. Clifford. Critical remarks on "Yamoyden", a poem by Mr. Eastburn
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1822
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Abbey added admiration affection appear Aston Autumn bard beauty bosom called character circumstances Clifford close connected continued cottage dear death deep delight directed earth Edward existence expression fact father feelings felt give given hand happy harp heart heaven honour hope hour human imagination impression influence interesting kind land less letters light lines live Lluellyn Lord manner mind moral mountain nature never o'er objects once opening original passed peace perhaps period picture poem poet poetical poetry portion possessed present Quaker remains remarkable rendered rest Rivaulx round ruins scene seemed short Sir Walter sorrow soul spirit striking sweet taste tears thee thing thou thought tion Tixhall volume Walsingham whilst wild wish written young youth
Page 9 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.
Page 82 - The first man is of the earth, earthy : the second man is the Lord from heaven. As is the earthy, such are they also that are earthy : and as is the heavenly, such are they also that are heavenly. And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.
Page 8 - The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, A gentler mood inspires; for now the leaf Incessant rustles from the mournful grove, Oft startling such as, studious, walk below, And slowly circles through the waving air.
Page 20 - Amusive birds ! — say where your hid retreat When the frost rages and the tempests beat ; Whence your return, by such nice instinct led, When spring, soft season, lifts her bloomy head ? Such baffled searches mock man's prying pride, The GOD of NATURE is your secret guide...
Page 281 - ... of his feet are still to be seen, and hurled his bolts among them till the whole were slaughtered, except the big bull, who presenting his forehead to the shafts, shook them off as they fell ; but missing one at length, it wounded him in the side ; whereon, springing round, he bounded over the Ohio, over the Wabash, the Illinois, and finally over the great lakes, where he is living at this day.
Page 274 - Sweet strains wildly float on the breezes that kiss The calm-flowing lake round that region of bliss, Where, wreathing their garlands of amaranth, fair...
Page 274 - The dance and the revel, mid forests that cover, On high, with their shade, the green isle of the lover. But fierce as the snake, with his eyeballs of fire, When his scales are all brilliant and glowing with ire, Are the warriors to all, save the maids of their isle, Whose law is their will, and whose life is their smile ; From beauty, there, valour and strength are not rovers, And peace reigns supreme in the green isle of lovers.
Page 72 - This, this is the worship the Saviour made known, When she of Samaria found him By the patriarch's well, sitting weary alone, With the stillness of noontide around him. How sublime, yet how simple, the homage he taught To her who inquired by that fountain, If Jehovah at Solyma's shrine would be sought, Or adored on Samaria's mountain...
Page 248 - Friend of my youth, with thee began the love Of sacred song; the wont, in golden dreams, Mid classic realms of splendours past to rove, O'er haunted steep, and by immortal streams; Where the blue wave, with sparkling bosom gleams Round shores, the mind's eternal heritage, For ever lit by memory's twilight beams; Where the proud dead, that live in storied page, Beckon, with awful port, to glory's earlier age.
Page 256 - These they besought to spare, those blessed for aid divine. As the fresh sense of life, through every vein, With the pure air they drank, inspiring came, Comely they grew, patient of toil and pain, And, as the fleet deer's, agile was their frame: Of meaner vices scarce they knew the name; These simple truths went down from sire to son,— To reverence...