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acquaintance Addison admirable affection appear asked beautiful began believe brought called Captain carried character charming comes Congreve court dear death delightful England English eyes face famous fancy father Fielding fortune genius give Goldsmith hand head hear heart honour hope human humour interest John Johnson kind lady laugh letters live London look Lord manner married means mind morning nature never night observed once passed perhaps person picture play pleasure poet poor Pope present pretty reader remarkable returned says seems seen society speak spirit Steele story Swift talk tell tender things thought told took truth turn verses volume whole wife woman women writing written wrote young
Сторінка 34 - I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London that a young, healthy child well nursed is, at a year old, . a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.
Сторінка 147 - I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion ; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow: when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions and debates of mankind.
Сторінка 297 - 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 217 - Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine Lo, thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Сторінка 311 - 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 our life's taper at the close And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Сторінка 312 - 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; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew — I still had hopes — my long vexations past, Here to return, and die at home at last.
Сторінка 216 - She comes ! she comes ! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old ! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sickening stars fade off the ethereal plain ; As Argus
Сторінка 100 - I have observed, that a reader seldom peruses a book with pleasure, 'till he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that conduce very much to the right understanding of an author.
Сторінка 149 - When I read the several dates of the tombs, of" some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.