The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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C. Whittingham, 1822 - English poetry
 

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Page 195 - Orphean lyre I sung of chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend, Though hard and rare.
Page 144 - ... report the valuable ones of any other man. So the elegy I renounce. I condole with you from my heart, on the loss of so worthy a man, and a friend to us both. Now he is gone...
Page 10 - I'd have a clear and competent estate, That I might live genteelly, but not great : As much as I could moderately spend ; A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend. Nor should the sons of poverty repine Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine ; And all that objects of true pity were, Should be...
Page 144 - I know an instance where he did his utmost to conceal his own merit that way ; and if we join to this his natural love of ease, I fancy we must expect little of this sort : at least I...
Page 13 - Give life an edge so keen, no surly care Would venture to assault my soul, or dare, Near my retreat, to hide one secret snare. But so divine, so noble a repast I'd seldom, and with moderation, taste : For highest cordials all their virtue lose, By a too frequent and too bold a use ; And what would cheer the spirits in distress, Ruins our health, when taken to excess.
Page 254 - Sleep, unprovoked, will softly seal his eyes, And innocence the want of down supplies; Health tempers all his cups, and at his board Reigns the cheap luxury the fields afford : Like the great Trojan, mantled in a cloud...
Page 61 - Who moves within the middle region, shares The least disquiets, and the smallest cares. Let her extraction with true lustre shine ; If something brighter, not too bright for thine : Her education liberal, not great ; Neither inferior nor above her state. Let her have wit ; but let that wit be free From affectation, pride, or pedantry : For the effect of woman's wit is such, Too little is as dangerous as too much.
Page 12 - Near some obliging, modest fair to live : For there's that sweetness in a female mind Which in a man's we cannot hope to find...
Page 14 - But by a silent and a peaceful death, Without a sigh, resign my aged breath. And, when committed to the dust, I'd have Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave ; Then would my exit so propitious be, All men would wish to live and die like me.
Page 10 - Ovid too, Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew: He that with judgment reads his charming lines, In which strong art with stronger nature joins...

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