The English Humourists of the Eighteenth Century

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Сторінка 186 - And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying all abroad?
Сторінка 287 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Сторінка 287 - Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose. I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw...
Сторінка 274 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
Сторінка 186 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Сторінка 274 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, ' • But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Сторінка 287 - How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labour with an age of ease ; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly...
Сторінка 166 - He began on it ; and when first he mentioned it to Swift, the doctor did not much like the project. As he carried it on, he showed what he wrote to both of us, and we now and then gave a correction, or a word or two of advice ; but it was wholly of his own writing. — When it was done, neither of us thought it would succeed. We showed it to Congreve ; who, after reading it over, said, it would either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly.
Сторінка 136 - When I look upon the Tombs of the Great, every Emotion of Envy dies in me; when I read the Epitaphs of the Beautiful, every inordinate Desire goes out...
Сторінка 86 - Tis not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius, we'll deserve it.

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