Masters and workmen, by lord B-, Band 2;Band 633

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Seite 127 - See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth To give him leave to toil ; And see his lordly fellow-worm The poor petition spurn, Unmindful, though a weeping wife And helpless offspring mourn.
Seite 225 - It's no in makin muckle mair: It's no in books ; it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If Happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest : Nae treasures, nor pleasures, Could make us happy lang; The heart...
Seite 28 - Many and sharp the numerous ills Inwoven with our frame ! More pointed still we make ourselves, Regret, remorse, and shame ! And man, whose heaven-erected face...
Seite 165 - We know the arduous strife, the eternal laws To which the triumph of all good is given, High sacrifice, and labour without pause, Even to the death : — else wherefore should the eye Of man converse with immortality ? XV.
Seite 186 - Even be it so ; yet still among your tribe, Our daily world's true Worldlings, rank not me ! Children are blest, and powerful ; their world lies More justly balanced ; partly at their feet, And part far from them : sweetest melodies Are those that are by distance made more sweet; Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes, He is a slave ; the meanest we can meet...
Seite 147 - Nor haughtie words most full of highest thoughts : But are like bladders blowen up with wynd, That being prickt do vanish into noughts.
Seite 84 - I have a hundred things to do, and to think of, so now go and write your letter, while I prepare mine." Alice retreated to her own chamber, where she wrote a letter full of quiet assurance to her father, and afterwards sat above an hour with her hands clasped before her, cold, pale, and still, gazing on vacancy. This new and undreamed-of trial, the...

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