The Works of the English Poets: Addison

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Page 274 - So shall we gain still one day's liberty; And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment, A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Page 327 - Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, — And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works, He must delight in virtue; And that which he delights in must be happy, But when?
Page 227 - Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my pains beguile : The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crowned, And streams shall murmur all around...
Page 223 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 223 - In foreign realms and lands remote, Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air.
Page 203 - Haemi pinguescere campos. scilicet et tempus veniet, cum finibus illis agricola incurvo terram molitus aratro exesa inveniet scabra robigine pila, 495 aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanis, grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulchris.
Page 61 - Inspired repulsed battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. So when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
Page 35 - Through pathless fields and unfrequented floods, To dens of dragons and enchanted woods. But now the mystic tale that pleased of yore Can charm an understanding age no more ; The long-spun allegories fulsome grow, While the dull moral lies too plain below.
Page 221 - To all my weak Complaints and Cries Thy Mercy lent an Ear, Ere yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt To form themselves in Pray'r. Unnumber'd Comforts to my Soul Thy tender Care bestow'd, Before my Infant Heart conceiv'd From whom those Comforts flow'd.
Page 264 - Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms ; The sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks ; Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripen'd beauties of the North.

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