The Sporting review, ed. by 'Craven'.

Front Cover
John William Carleton
1839
 

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Page 31 - Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm, Aloft extending, like eternal Jove, When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud On TOLLY'S name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail! For lo
Page 41 - the best actors in the world either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comicalhistorical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited,—Seneca cannot be too heavy nor Plautus too light.
Page 356 - a lamp : her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
Page 31 - capacious scene With half that kindling majesty dilate Thy strong conception, as when Brutus rose Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's fate, Amid the crowd of patriots; and his arm, Aloft extending, like eternal Jove, When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud On
Page 63 - GAMONIA ; or the Art of preserving Game ; and an improved Method of making Plantations and Covers explained and illustrated. By Lawrence Rawstorne, Esq. With fifteen coloured Drawings,
Page 32 - name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail! For lo I the tyrant prostrate in the dust, And Rome again is free.
Page 196 - so may say ; That there were few, or boys, or men, Who, in my dawning time of day, Of vassal, or of knight's degree, Could vie in vanities with me, For I had strength, youth, gaiety.
Page 231 - was claimed. The Goodwood Stakes of 25 sovs. each, 15 ft. and only 5 if declared, &c.; the winner of any class of the Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, or Tradesmen's Cup at Liverpool July Meeting, to carry 51b. extra; of any two of those stakes,
Page 214 - THE WILD SPORTS OF SOUTHERN AFRICA ; being the Narrative of an Expedition from the Cape of Good Hope, through the Territories of the Chief Moselekatse, to the Tropic of Capricorn, by Captain
Page 136 - prison is a holy place, Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard !—May none those marks efface ; And

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