The British Essayists: Lounger

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C. and J. Rivington, 1823
 

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Стр. 305 - Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise ; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, 'Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Стр. 304 - Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Стр. 304 - mang the dewy weet, Wi' spreckled breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling East. Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane.
Стр. 303 - I saw thee seek the sounding shore. Delighted with the dashing roar ; Or when the north his fleecy store Drove through the sky, I saw grim nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye. Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth. And joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove, I saw thee eye the general mirth With boundless love.
Стр. 306 - Shakespeare discerns the characters of men, with which he catches the many changing hues of life, forms a sort of problem in the science of mind, of which it is easier to see the truth than to assign the cause. Though I am very far from meaning to compare our rustic bard to Shakespeare, yet whoever will read his lighter and more humorous poems, his Dialogue of the Dogs, his Dedication to GH , Esq., his Epistles to a Young Friend, and to W.
Стр. 303 - I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way. Misled by Fancy's meteor ray, By Passion driven; But yet the light that led astray, Was light from Heaven.
Стр. 305 - Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine — no distant date ; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom ! TO RUIN.
Стр. 234 - It has stood there many a day," said she, " and we old inhabitants should bear with one another." Methinks I see her thus seated, her spectacles on, but raised a little on her brow for a pause of explanation, their shagreen case laid between the leaves of a silver-clasped family Bible.
Стр. 329 - Unfit for the bustle of affairs and the amusements of his youth, an old man, if he has no source of mental exertion or employment, often settles into the gloom of melancholy and peevishness, or petrifies his feelings by habitual intoxication. From an old man, whose gratifications were solely derived from those sensual appetites which time has blunted, or from those trivial amusements of which youth only can share, age has cut off almost every source of enjoyment.
Стр. 305 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent Lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er ! Such fate to suffering worth is...

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