Visits to Remarkable Places: Old Halls, Battle Fields, and Scenes Illustrative of Striking Passages in English History and Poetry

Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, & Longmans, 1842 - 610 Seiten
The section on Clopton Hall was written by Elizabeth Gaskell. It was the first work of hers that was not a collaboration and was published.

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Seite 70 - His preaching much, but more his practice wrought ; (A living sermon of the truths he taught ;) For this by rules severe his life he squared : That all might see the doctrine which they heard.
Seite 74 - He bore his great commission in his look, But sweetly tempered awe, and softened all he spoke. He preached the joys of heaven, and pains of hell, And warned the sinner with becoming zeal; But on eternal mercy loved to dwell.
Seite 218 - For seven miles east, and seven miles west, And seven miles north and south, No blade of grass or corn could grow, So venomous was her mouth. The milk of seven stately cows, (It was costly her to keep), Was brought her daily, which she drank Before she went to sleep.
Seite 467 - Visits to Remarkable Places : Old Halls, Battle-Fields, and Scenes illustrative of Striking Passages in English History and Poetry. By WILLIAM HOWITT. 2 vols. square crown 8vo. with Wood Engravings, 25s. The Rural Life of England.
Seite 188 - Scots despoil our fields, And ravage all our farms. " Their halls and castles, once so fair, Now moulder in decay ; Proud strangers now usurp their lands, And bear their wealth away.
Seite 426 - They roll'd him up in a sheet of lead, A sheet of lead for a funeral pall; They plunged him in the cauldron red, And melted him, lead, and bones, and all.
Seite 71 - His Saviour came not with a gaudy show; Nor was his kingdom of the world below. Patience in want, and poverty of mind, These marks of Church and Churchmen he design'd, And living taught, and dying left behind. The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn: In purple he was crucified, not born. They who contend for place and high degree, Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.
Seite 193 - Father, you are an aged man ; Your head is white, your bearde is gray ; It were a shame at these your yeares For you to ryse in such a fray.
Seite 218 - We have no time now here to waste, Hence quickly let us sail : My only sister Margaret, Something, I fear, doth ail.

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