The local historian's table book, of remarkable occurrences, historical facts, traditions, legendary and descriptive ballads [&c.] connected with the counties of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Northumberland and Durham. Legendary division, Том 2

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Стр. 267 - He loved fairies, genii, giants, and monsters; he delighted to rove through the meanders of enchantment, to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the waterfalls of Elysian gardens.
Стр. 112 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends...
Стр. 413 - So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found. Among the faithless faithful only he : Among innumerable false unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number, nor example with him wrought To 'swerve from truth, or change his constant mind Though single.
Стр. 295 - Let him, that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
Стр. 290 - Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, Call it the Battell of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this spurne Uppon a monnyn day: Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean, The Perse never went away.
Стр. 213 - If New Year's Eve night-wind blow south, It betokeneth warmth and growth ; If west, much milk, and fish in the sea ; If north, much cold and storms there will be ; If east, the trees will bear much fruit ; If north-east, flee it man and brute."] NEW YEAR'S DAY.
Стр. 306 - A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?
Стр. 160 - ... he comes flounce into bed, dead as a salmon into a fishmonger's basket; his feet cold as ice, his breath hot as a furnace, and his hands and his face as greasy as his flannel night-cap.
Стр. 42 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?
Стр. 22 - IN London was young Beichan born, He longed strange countries for to see ; But he was taen by a savage moor, Who handled him right cruellie ; For he viewed the fashions of that land ; • Their way of worship viewed he ; But to Mahound, or Termagant, "Would Beichan never bend a knee. So...

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