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Seite 651 - Advocates chose me their Librarian, an office from which I received little or no emolument, but which gave me the command of a large library. I then formed the plan of writing the History of England...
Seite 371 - I know not how to express, otherwise, than by a calm, sweet abstraction of soul from all the concerns of this world ; and sometimes a kind of vision, or fixed ideas and imaginations, of being alone in the mountains, or some solitary wilderness...
Seite 331 - Oppressor's iron scourge to mourn To mourn, but not to murmur at his wrong! Yet when their last late evening shall decline...
Seite 134 - Three copecs or an akin," anfwered Muller. " Well then," faid the Czar, " I have earned eighteen altins, and am come to be paid." Muller immediately opened ha bureau, took out eighteen ducats, and counting them before the prince, " It is the leaft," faid he, " that can be given to fuch a workman as your Majefty." But the emperor refufed them :
Seite 342 - Where anguish wails aloud, and fetters clank ; To caves bestrew'd with many a mouldering bone, And cells, whose echoes only learn to groan ; Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows, He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, Profuse of toil and prodigal of health...
Seite 7 - France, notwithstanding all its natural resources, languishes under an oppressive load of the same kind. The republic of the United Provinces is as much enfeebled by its debts as either Genoa or Venice. Is it likely that in Great Britain alone a practice, which has brought either weakness or desolation into every other country, should prove altogether innocent?
Seite 132 - Faculty, among whom surgery may be supposed, at that time, to have been at a very low ebb. He tapped the wife of a Dutch merchant who had the dropsy, but the operation having been too long deferred, the poor woman...
Seite 465 - I think of those that have no friend, Who now, perhaps, by melancholy led, From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts, Retiring, wander...
Seite 338 - Stay thy soft murmuring waters, gentle Rill ; Hush, whispering Winds; ye rustling Leaves, be still; Rest, silver Butterflies, your quivering wings ; Alight, ye Beetles, from your airy rings ; Ye painted Moths, your gold-eyed plumage furl, Bow your wide horns, your spiral trunks uncurl; Glitter, ye Glow-worms, on your mossy beds ; Descend, ye Spiders, on your lengthened threads ; Slide here, ye horned Snails, with varnished shells; Ye Bee-nymphs, listen in your waxen cells...