The Port Folio, Volume 3 (Google eBook)

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Editor and Asbury Dickens, 1810 - Philadelphia (Pa.)
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Page 203 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons...
Page 387 - The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: The jolly god in triumph comes!
Page 204 - The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 201 - And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter ; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out. and wept bitterly.
Page 396 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Page 204 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 340 - O'er many a distant foreign land ; Each place, each province I have tried, And sung and danced my saraband : But all their charms could not prevail To steal my heart from yonder vale.
Page 206 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 489 - Let me not stir, nor breathe, lest I dissolve That tender, lovely form of painted air, So like Almeria. Ha! it sinks, it falls; I'll catch it ere it goes, and grasp her shade. 'Tislife! 'tis warm! 'tis she! 'tis she herself ! Nor dead nor shade, but breathing and alive!
Page 155 - It is very difficult to lay down rules for the acquirement of such a taste as that I am here speaking of. The faculty must in some degree be born with us; and it very often happens, that those who have other qualities in perfection, are wholly void of this. One of the most eminent mathematicians of the age has assured me, that the greatest pleasure he took in reading Virgil was in examining /Eneas's voyage by the map...

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