The Classic and the Beautiful from the Literature of Three Thousand Years, Том 1

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Carson & Simpson, 1893
 

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Стр. 106 - And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms — a garden and a grave ! Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And even the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped — what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper...
Стр. 102 - Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, While resignation gently slopes the way ; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences...
Стр. 105 - No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Стр. 311 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits, and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress...
Стр. 394 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem : , Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Стр. 188 - tis the soul of peace : Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer; A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit : The first true gentleman, that ever breathed.
Стр. 273 - WISH MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Стр. 451 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law...
Стр. 427 - Where low.browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No; men, high.minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude; Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain...
Стр. 108 - Contented toil and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness are there; And piety, with wishes placed above, And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade...

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