The Poetical Works of Samuel Johnson

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George Kearsley, 1789 - English poetry - 212 pages
 

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Page 30 - But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 35 - Enquirer, cease, petitions yet remain, Which heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice, Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious pray'r.
Page 28 - Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; Should tempting...
Page 25 - To better features yields the frame of gold; For now no more we trace in ev'ry line Heroic worth, benevolence divine: The form distorted justifies the fall, And Detestation rids th
Page 190 - Ah ! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice ; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Page 26 - In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand : To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign. Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, His smile alone security bestows...
Page 22 - LET observation with extensive view, Survey mankind, from China to Peru ; Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, And watch the busy scenes of crowded life...
Page 200 - The busy day, the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm — his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.
Page 192 - With cool submission joins the labouring train, And social sorrow loses half its pain : Our anxious Bard, without complaint, may share This bustling season's epidemic care, Like...
Page 31 - ... which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord.

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