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beauty bliss breast breath bright BUTLER's Hudibras Byron's Childe Harold Byron's Don Juan charms cheek clouds cold dark death deep doth dream DRYDEN earth face fair fall fame fate fear feel flow flowers fools Gay's Fables give glory gold GOLDSMITH's grace grave grief hand happy hate hath head hear heart heaven hill honour hope hour human J. T. Watson leaves light live look lost Milton's mind MOORE morning nature ne'er never o'er once pain passion past pleasure poor POPE Pope's Essay praise reason rest rich rise rose round SHAKSPEARE sleep smile soft sorrow soul sound spirit spring strike sweet tears tell thee things thou tongue true truth turn virtue wind Young's Night Thoughts youth
Seite 153 - Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To lose good days, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Seite 477 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay — There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew: Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Seite 141 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Seite 470 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Seite 386 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Seite 340 - Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Seite 320 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place. I am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own.
Seite 210 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Seite 455 - And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, The reverend champion stood. At his control, Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Seite 93 - Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...