The Sporting review, ed. by 'Craven'.

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John William Carleton
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Стр. 348 - For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell, Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Стр. 440 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and, I think, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise, and true perfection ! — Peace, hoa ! The moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awaked ! [Music ceases.
Стр. 437 - Breathes there a man, with soul so dead Who never to himself has said, ' This is my own, my native land...
Стр. 38 - ... rushes of the liquid lake. The geese fly o'er the barn ; the bees in arms, Drive headlong from their waxen cells in swarms. Jack Straw at London-stone, with all his rout, Struck not the city with so loud a shout ; Not when with English hate they did pursue A Frenchman, or an unbelieving Jew; Not when the welkin rung with ' one and all ;' And echoes bounded back from Fox's hall ; Earth seemed to sink beneath, and heaven above to fall.
Стр. 197 - And greedily sucks in th' unfaithful food ; Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey, And bears with joy the little spoil away ; Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake, Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake, With sudden rage he now aloft appears, And in his eye convulsive anguish bears ; And now again, impatient of the wound, He rolls and...
Стр. 348 - Yet are ye not, Sporting in tree and air, more beautiful Than the young lambs, that from the valley-side Send a soft bleating like an infant's voice, Half happy, half afraid ! O blessed things ! At sight of this your perfect innocence, The sterner thoughts of manhood melt away Into a mood as mild as woman's dreams.
Стр. 197 - Now hope exalts the fisher's beating heart, Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art ; He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes, While the line stretches with th...
Стр. 197 - Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake, lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake ; With sudden rage he now aloft appears, And in his eye convulsive anguish bears ; And now again, impatient of the wound, He rolls and wreathes his shining body round ; Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide, The trembling fins the boiling wave divide.
Стр. 56 - Of a' the games that e'er I saw, Man, callant, laddie birkie wean. The dearest, far aboon them a', Was aye the witching channel stane.
Стр. 441 - It has been wisely fostered by our sovereigns, who have felt that the security of the kingdom, is increased by every man being more or less a sailor, or connected with the nautical profession.

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