"Briery" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... us stray O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae, Blithely spend the gowden day, 'Midst joys that never weary, O! Towering o'er the Newton woods, Laverocks fan the snaw-white clouds, Siller saughs, wi' downy buds, Adorn the banks sae briery, O! ...
— The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume II. - The Songs of Scotland of the past half century • Various
... a leg over his horse's ears, and slid to the ground with a thud which made earth shake. He stretched out his arms to beckon me home; and when I would not budge, he scrambled through the briery hedge and took me, whether I would or no, into his strenuous embrace. He wept over me as a long-lost child of his, slobbered me, patted my head, back, breast. He held me at arm's-length to look at me better, hugged me again as if at last he was sure. "This is verily and indeed," he cried, ...
— The Fool Errant • Maurice Hewlett
... a strange wish for exploring The thorny and briery place, And, lo, a path through the deepest ...
— On the Tree Top • Clara Doty Bates
... to take sight for a moment, the group silently watching him. Suddenly he came to the perpendicular, and strode off down the rugged slope over gullies and bowlders, through rills and briery tangles, his eyes distended and eager as if he were led into the sylvan depths by the lure of a vision. The chain-bearers followed, continually bending and rising, the recurrent genuflections resembling the fervors of some religious rite. The chain rustled sibilantly ...
— The Riddle Of The Rocks - 1895 • Charles Egbert Craddock (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)
... before he was aware that she was going; but he turned to the book, and read the indicated passage. It was a part of the continuation of Orlando's adventure in the enchanted garden, when, himself pursued and scourged by La Penitenza, he was pursuing the Fata Morgana over rugged rocks and through briery thickets. ...
— Gryll Grange • Thomas Love Peacock
... was lone; the grass was dank With night-dews on the briery bank Whereon a weary reaper sank. His garb was old; his visage tanned; The rusty sickle in his hand Could find no work in ...
— Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7 • Charles H. Sylvester |
