Tweed and Don; Or, Recollections and Reflections of an Angler for the Last Fifty Years ...

W.P. Nimmo, 1860 - 152 Seiten

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Seite 65 - The works of the LORD are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein.
Seite 129 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride. His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And " Let us worship God !
Seite 75 - The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, And greedily devour the treacherous bait...
Seite 55 - I'll sit me down and weary.' Old sony. At Roxburgh, the remains of the castle are only seen. Here it was that James II. of Scotland was killed in 1460, by the bursting of a cannon, made probably from the trunk of a tree, and hooped all round with iron. IJielso, Kelso is situated on the Tweed, in the very heart of fishing ground, near its confluence with the Teviot, a capital treating river.
Seite 11 - he at the best hathe " his holsom Walk and mery at his Ease, " a swete Ayre of the swete Savour of the " Meade of Flowers, that maketh him " hungry ; he heareth the melodious Har...
Seite 23 - Ev'n love an' friendship should give place To catch the plack! I dinna like to see your face Nor hear your crack. " But ye whom social pleasure charms, Whose heart the tide of kindness warms, Who hold your being on the terms Each aid the others, Come to my bowl, come to my arms, My friends and brothers.
Seite 64 - Through skies, where I could count each little star. The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves ; The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed, Imposes silence, with a stilly sound. In such a place as this, at such an hour, If ancestry can be in aught believed, Descending spirits have conversed with man, And told the secrets of the world unknown.
Seite 43 - Already now the snow-drop dares appear, The first pale blossom of the unripened year ; As Flora's breath, by some transforming power, Had changed an icicle into a flower : Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, And winter lingers in its icy veins.
Seite 62 - ... a distance seemed, by their profound stillness, to be awaiting some awful event that was about to befall. Yet he thought of ' home and beauty,' — he thought of Bond Street, he thought of scales, weights, and measures, — of the many pounds of tea and coffee that had been served out that morning to the many unwashed housemaids from the streets adjacent to his establishment.
Seite 23 - And all the sweets it bears, when void of care! What ails thee, Roger, then ? what gars thee grane ? Tell me the cause of thy ill-season'd pain.

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