The poetical and dramatic works of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B. (Google eBook)

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Printed by H. Goldney, for Messieurs Rivington, F. Power and Co., E. Newbery ... T. Cadell ... [and 3 others], 1791
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Page 51 - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Page 68 - Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Page 61 - Where wealth, accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Page 59 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 66 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Page 104 - 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...
Page 42 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 67 - Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired.
Page 66 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault...
Page 63 - Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work...

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