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Сторінка 288 - This above all, — to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!
Сторінка 287 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
Сторінка 288 - Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are most select and generous, chief in that.
Сторінка 14 - My trufty dog — that wiftful look " Is all that makes my poor heart heave ; " But hie thee home — proclaim me dead, " Forget to think — and ceafe to grieve.
Сторінка 15 - Thro' all his frame, he found to creep ; He knew not what it was to die, But knew his mafter did not ftecp.
Сторінка 15 - To meet his toil e'er morning light* ' And well his brain rememberd yet, He never patter'd tow'rds his bed ; Or lodg'd "his long face on his cheek, But ftraight he ftlrr'd, or rais'd his head. ' Yes, he remember'd, and with tears, His loving matter's kind replies; When dumbly he contriv'd to fay, " The cock has crow'd, my matter rife...
Сторінка 12 - Whate'er the time, whate'er the weather. Unlike to worldly friends were they, Who feparate in fortune's blaft — They ftill were near when fair the fky, But nearer ftill when overcaft.
Сторінка 9 - ... great master. There is one that we would particularly refer to, and that is "Shepherd Lubin." In size it is very small, but, like most of Bewick's pieces, sufficiently large to show the inimitable skill of the artist. The picture tells its own tale :— " Young Lubin was a shepherd's boy, Who watched a rigid master's sheep, And many a night was heard to sigh, And many a day was seen to weep.
Сторінка 9 - And many a day was feen to weep. ' For not a lambkin e'er was loft, Or wether ftray'd to field remote ; But Lubin ever was to blame, Nor careful he, nor penn'd his cote. Yet not a truftier lad was known, To climb the promontory's br.ow ; Nor yet a tenderer heart e'er beat, Beiide the brook in vale below.
Сторінка 9 - For not a lambkin e'er was loft, Or wether ftray'd to field remote ; But Lubin ever was to blame, Nor careful he, nor penn'd his cote. ' Yet not a tniftier lad was known, To climb the promontory's brow; Nor yet a tenderer heart e'er beat, Befide the brook in vale below. • From him ftern winter's drifting fnow, Its pelting fleet, or froft fevere ; Or fcorchiog fummer's fultry ray, Ne'er forc'da murmur, or a tear. ' For ah ! the varying feafons had To every hardship form'd his frame; Tho...

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