Something new [essays, signed Automathes].

E. and C. Dilly, 1762

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Seite 241 - Were all books reduced thus to their quintessence, many a bulky author would make his appearance in a penny paper : there would be scarce such a thing in nature as a folio : the works of an age would be contained on a few shelves ; not to mention millions of volumes that would be utterly annihilated.
Seite ix - HE celebrated wits of the mifcellanarian race, the erfay-writers , cafual difcourfers , refiedtioncoiners , meditation - founders , and others of the irregular kind of writers , may plead it as their peculiar advantage, " that they follow the variety
Seite 243 - I charge thee therefore before God, and the Lord Jefus Chrift, who fhall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his Kingdom...
Seite 188 - And tho' by all a wonder own'd, Yet knew not fhe was fair. Till Edwin came, the pride of fwains, A foul that knew no art ; And from whofe eye, ferenely mild, Shone forth the feeling heart.
Seite viii - ... above the ground. From every field, from every hedge or hillock, we now gather as delicious fruits and fragrant flowers as of old from the richest and best cultivated gardens.
Seite 208 - Mille aret ? At suave est ex magno tollere acervo. Dum ex parvo nobis tantumdem haurire relinquas, Cur tua plus laudes cumeris granaria nostris ? Ut tibi si sit opus liquidi non amplius urna, Vel cyatho, et dicas : Magno de flumine mallem, 55 Quam ex hoc fonticulo tantumdem sumere.
Seite 139 - That good-natured author remarks, that there is a certain general claim of kindnefs and benevolence which every fpecies of creatures has a right to from us.
Seite 238 - Mon deuil me plaît et doit toujours me plaire ; II me tient lieu de celui que je pleure.
Seite 78 - While broken accents breat'ved in fighs, Reveal the fatal caufe. Lie ftill, thou pledge of haplefs love. Lie ftill, my infant dear ; I would thy father were a king. Thy mother on a bier ! Enough had now the lover heard. He clafps her in his arms, Look up my miftrefs, friend, and wife, Revive thy drooping charms. Thy trial now is fairly paft, Thou firft of wornan kind ; Thy form, tho' caft in beauty's mojild, Enfhrines a hero's mind.

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