The poetical works of Oliver Goldsmith, with a memoir by W. Spalding, Volum 44Charles Griffin, 1864 - 152 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith, with a Memoir by William Spalding Oliver Goldsmith Visualització completa - 1864 |
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Passatges populars
Pàgina 58 - 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. I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my...
Pàgina 45 - Here lies our good Edmund,' whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Pàgina 16 - But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care ; Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view ; That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies ; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.
Pàgina 58 - Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose ; And every want to luxury allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride.
Pàgina 57 - And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain: No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way. Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land.
Pàgina 57 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And Desolation saddens all thy green: One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
Pàgina 120 - The wretch condemn'd with life to part Still, still on hope relies ; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way ; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.
Pàgina 49 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand, His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.
Pàgina 55 - SWEET AUBURN! loveliest village of the plain; Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please...
Pàgina 26 - Even liberty itself is barter' d here : At gold's superior charms all freedom flies, The needy sell it, and the rich man buys ; A land of tyrants, and a den of slaves...