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appear attend beauty behold cause character child cold comfort cried dare dead delight doubt dread dream duty early ease face fair fancy fate father fear feel felt foes fond force forms gave give grace grave grew grief grieved hand happy hear heard heart hope hour humble keep kind knew lady land light live look Lord lost lover maid manners mean meet mind move nature never o'er once pain pass'd passion peace pity pleasure poet poor praise pride reason rest round scene seem'd seen sense shame silent smile soon soul speak spirit strong sweet TALE thee things thou thought told trembling true truth wish young youth
Стр. 241 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me ; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone.
Стр. 261 - I have heard of your paintings too, well enough ; God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.
Стр. 48 - I fix'd my eyes On the mid stream and saw the spirits rise: I saw my father on the water stand, And hold a thin pale boy in either hand; And there they glided ghastly on the top Of the salt flood, and never touch 'da drop: I would have struck them, but they knew th' intent, And smiled upon the oar, and down they went.
Стр. 143 - The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemical concurrence.
Стр. 283 - Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Стр. 84 - Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the playplace of our early days ; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
Стр. 283 - Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, . The course of true love never did run smooth : J But, either it was different in blood ; — Lys.
Стр. 6 - In the evening I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond of it— add, that I was very glad to think of anything, rather than politics.
Стр. 85 - That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain Our innocent sweet simple years again. This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.