The Works of Oliver Goldsmith: With a Life and Notes, Том 4H.G. Bohn, 1854 |
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absurdity acquainted admiration agreeable amusement antiquity appeared Aristotle attempts Ballymahon beauty character contempt continue criticism David Mallet Dr Johnson Duke of Ormond Earl of Mar eloquence endeavour enemy England English excellence expect fame favour fortune France French friends friendship genius give Goldsmith hand happiness honour humour imagination imitation Jacobite King labour lady language laws letters literary lived Lord Bolingbroke Lysippus mankind manner MDCCLXXI means merit mind never object obliged observed occasion Oliver Goldsmith once Parnell party passion perceive perhaps person philosopher pleasing pleasure poem poet poetry polite learning Pope possessed praise present Pretender profession proper reader regard reputation ridiculous scarcely Scotland seems seldom serve shew society soon sufficient supposed taste thing THOMAS PARNELL thought tion trifling truth virtue Voltaire vulgar Whigs whole writer written Zoilus
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Сторінка 319 - 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 319 - 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 318 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door: The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules...
Сторінка 252 - Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward : a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality ; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death...
Сторінка 113 - stood their citadel, now grown over with weeds ; there their senate-house, but now the haunt of every noxious reptile ; temples and theatres stood here, now only an undistinguished heap of ruin. They are fallen, for luxury and avarice first made them feeble. The rewards of the state were conferred on amusing, and not on useful members of society.
Сторінка 322 - Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to Dr. Johnson, who received it with much good humour245, and desired Sir Joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the Epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of it; but he would never consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster Abbey with an English inscription.
Сторінка 114 - Their wretchedness excites rather horror than pity. Some are without the covering even of rags, and others emaciated with disease ; the world has disclaimed them ; society turns its back upon their distress, and has given them up to nakedness and hunger.
Сторінка 108 - Soon, then, a terrible encounter ensued, in which the invader seemed to have the victory, and the laborious spider was obliged to take refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived the victor using every art to draw the enemy from his stronghold. He seemed to go off, but quickly returned ; and when he found all arts in vain, began to demolish the new web without mercy.
Сторінка 225 - I left the town so abruptly, that I had no time to take leave of you or any of my friends. You will excuse me, when you know that I had certain and repeated informations, from some who are in the secret of affairs, that a resolution was taken, by those who have power to execute it, to pursue me to the scaffold.
Сторінка 290 - Few poems have done more honour to English genius than this. There is in it a strain of political thinking, that was, at that time, new in our poetry. Had the harmony of this been equal to that of Pope's versification, it would be incontestably the finest poem in our language ; but there is a dryness in the numbers which greatly lessens the pleasure excited both by the poet's judgment and imagination.