George Selwyn and His Contemporaries: With Memoirs and Notes, Том 2

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R. Bentley, 1843

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Сторінка 294 - The Niobe of nations, — there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; The Scipios...
Сторінка 301 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Сторінка 294 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye Whose agonies are evils of a day ! — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Сторінка 38 - Blends, in exception to all general rules, Your taste of follies with our scorn of fools ; Reserve with frankness, art with truth allied, Courage with softness, modesty with pride ; Fix'd principles, with fancy ever new : Shakes all together, and produces — you.
Сторінка 37 - Alban's family, and having, in some particulars, a resemblance to Charles the Second, contributed, in Johnson's imagination, to throw a lustre upon his other qualities ; ' and in a short time, the moral, pious Johnson, and the gay, dissipated Beauclerk, were companions. ' What a coalition ! ' (said Garrick, when he heard of this) : ' I shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house.
Сторінка 300 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watchdog bay'd beyond the Tiber; and More near from out the Caesar's palace came The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly, Of distant sentinels the fitful song Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Сторінка 300 - A grove which springs through levelled battlements, And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ; But the gladiators...
Сторінка 384 - I am, sir, with the greatest respect, Your most obedient humble servant, W.
Сторінка 1 - Ultimus Romanorum," the author of the Mysterious Mother, a tragedy of the highest order, and not a puling love-play. He is the father of the first romance and of the last tragedy in our language, and surely worthy of a higher place than any living writer, be he who he may.
Сторінка 36 - I'd have kept them all out. Beauclerk was very earnest for you." BOSWELL. " Beauclerk has a keenness of mind which is very uncommon." JOHNSON. "Yes, Sir; and every thing comes from him so easily. It appears to me that I labour, when I say a good thing.

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