The poetical works of James Beattie, and the poems and plays of Oliver Goldsmith (Google eBook)

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Page 187 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden -flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Page 198 - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Page 277 - And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound. And curs of low degree.
Page 207 - REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po, Or onward where the rude Carinthian boor Against the houseless stranger shuts the door, Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies A weary waste expanding to the skies Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee ; Still to my Brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Page 258 - No flocks that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn ; Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them. " But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring, A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earth-born cares are wrong : Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 67 - Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more ; I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew: Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.
Page 222 - ... 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...
Page 226 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all : And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 207 - 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.
Page 254 - Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back.

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