The life of a boy, by the author of The panorama of youth [M.R. Sterndale].

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Сторінка 33 - All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; There is no virtue like necessity.
Сторінка 105 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Сторінка 402 - What more felicity can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with liberty, And to be lord of all the works of nature! To reign in the air from earth to highest sky, To feed on flowers and weeds of glorious feature, To take whatever thing doth please the eye ! Who rests not pleased with such happiness, Well worthy he to taste of wretchedness.
Сторінка 364 - Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skilled : Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distilled : Two generations now had passed away, Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway ; Two ages o'er his native realm he reigned, And now the example of the third remained. All viewed with awe the venerable man ; Who thus with mild benevolence began...
Сторінка 133 - A book made by order of William the Conqueror, in which the estates of the kingdom were registered. DOOR, d6re.
Сторінка 16 - In narratives where historical veracity has no place, I cannot discover why there should not be exhibited the most perfect idea of virtue; of virtue not angelical, nor above probability — for what we cannot credit we shall never imitate — but the highest and purest that humanity can reach...
Сторінка 317 - Not to the grave, not to the grave, my Soul, Follow thy friend beloved ; But in the lonely hour, But in the evening walk, Think that he companies thy solitude ; Think that he holds with thee Mysterious intercourse ; And, though remembrance wake a tear, There will be joy in grief.
Сторінка 315 - Let dimpled Mirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine ; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due ; The myrtle bough bids lovers live, But that Matilda will not give ; Then, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree...
Сторінка 310 - Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy Shade ; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th...
Сторінка 412 - fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of the world...

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