Dodsley's Annual Register, Том 46

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J. Dodsley, 1804

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Стр. 468 - The jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, and the police were put on their mettle to discover the unknown and daring murderer.
Стр. 407 - I feel a sense of obligation towards my creditors, who, in case of accident to me, by the forced sale of my property may be in some degree sufferers. I do not think myself at liberty, as a man of probity, lightly to expose them to this hazard.
Стр. 949 - I call therefore a complete and generous education that which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices both private and public of peace and war.
Стр. 371 - Grant, we beseech thee, most merciful Father, that she, through thy help, may both faithfully live and walk according to thy will in this life present, and also may be partaker of everlasting glory in the life to come, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Стр. 933 - SWEET scented flower ! who art wont to bloom On January's front severe, And o'er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume ! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, And I will bind thee round my brow ; And as I twine the mournful wreath, I'll weave a melancholy song; And sweet the strain shall be, and long, The melody of death. Come, funeral flower ! who...
Стр. 910 - While Israel's sons, by scorpion curses driven, Outcasts of earth, and reprobate of heaven, Through the wide world in friendless exile stray, Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way, With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, And, dead to glory, only burn for gold.
Стр. 933 - I'll weave a melancholy song: And sweet the strain shall be, and long, The melody of death. Come, funeral flower! who lov'st to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb, And throw across the desert gloom A sweet decaying smell. Come, press my lips, and lie with me Beneath the lowly alder tree; And we will sleep a pleasant sleep: And not a care shall dare intrude, To break the marble solitude, So peaceful and so deep.
Стр. 907 - Where now thy might, which all those kings subdued ? No martial myriads muster in thy gate ; No suppliant nations...
Стр. 909 - So when, deep sinking in the rosy main, The western sun forsakes the Syrian plain, His watery rays refracted lustre shed. And pour their latest light on Carmel's head. Yet shines your praise, amid surrounding gloom. As the lone lamp that trembles in the tomb; For few the souls that spurn a tyrant's chain, And small the bounds of freedom's scanty reign.
Стр. 933 - And hark ! the wind-god, as he flies, Moans hollow in the forest trees, And sailing on the gusty breeze, Mysterious music dies. Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine, It warns me to the lonely shrine, The cold turf altar of the dead ; My grave shall be in yon lone spot, Where as I lie, by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed.

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