The Spirit of the Public Journals: Being an Impartial Selection of the Most Exquisite Essays and Jeux D'esprits, Principally Prose, that Appear in the Newspapers and Other Publications, Том 6
Being an impartial selection of the most exquisite essays and jeux d'esprits, principally prose, that appear in the newspapers and other publications.
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Сторінка 295 - A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up...
Сторінка 301 - How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and holy To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills, Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas, Have drunk in all my intellectual life, All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts, All adoration of the God in nature, All lovely and all honourable things, Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel The joy and greatness of its future being?
Сторінка 299 - Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams! I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent— I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams!
Сторінка 207 - Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves is as true of personal habits as of money.
Сторінка 34 - Jove lifts the golden balances, that show The fates of mortal men, and things below: Here each contending hero's lot he tries, And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight.
Сторінка 299 - And, conquering by her happiness alone, Shall France compel the nations to be free, Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own.
Сторінка 298 - Monarchs march'd in evil day, And Britain join'd the dire array; Though dear her shores and circling ocean, Though many friendships, many youthful loves Had swoln the patriot emotion, And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves ; Yet still my voice, unalter'd, sang defeat To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat...
Сторінка 296 - That at what time ye hear the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music, ye fall down and worship the golden image that Nebuchadnezzar the king hath set up...
Сторінка 311 - Woim of the STILL. Of all his migrations this last he likes best, How the arrogant reptile here raises his crest, His head winding up from the tail of...