Poems, Plays and Essays

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Phillips, Sampson, 1855 - 530 Seiten
 

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Seite xii - Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Seite 80 - The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that lowed to meet their young ; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool ; The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
Seite 73 - How small , of all that human hearts endure , That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Seite 101 - Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks...
Seite 80 - Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, While Resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past.
Seite 81 - Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More bent to raise the wretched, than to rise.
Seite 84 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Seite 65 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head To shame the meanness of his humble shed...
Seite 67 - But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill; Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threescore.
Seite 104 - Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.

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