[ Denne sides indhold er desværre begrænset. ]

...whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill ; there I sat viewing | the silver streams glide silently | towards...sea ; | yet sometimes opposed | by rugged roots, and pebble-stones, | which broke their waves, and turned them into foam : | and sometimes I beguiled time...

...towards their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into foam,...cool shade, whilst others sported themselves in the sun".1* Thus with the eyes of a scientist and the feeling of a poet, Piscator has combined the delightful...

...of Sprat's injunction to walk in nature as in a garden, and to taste of its plenty. ' ' There I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards...tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into foam, and sometimes I beguiled time by...

...whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill; there.I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards...tempestuous sea ; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots, and pebble-stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into foam : and sometimes I beguiled time by...

...you? ..... 56 Under that broad beech-tree I sat down, when I was last this way a-fishing. There I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea . 72 CORI DON. Well, then, I will begin, for I hate contention . 88 Does not this meat taste well?...

...whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards...centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by 1 rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves and turned them into foam. And sometimes...

...whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards...tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves and turned them into foam. And sometimes I beguiled time by...

[ Denne sides indhold er desværre begrænset. ]

...hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams glide gently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their waves and turned them into foam. . . . As thus I sat, these and other...