Letters Between Emilia and Harriet

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R. and J. Dodsley, 1762 - English fiction - 175 pages
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Page 66 - Let Choice, not wrinkled Spleen engage The Mind to quit the World's gay Stage, Where Folly's Scenes are play'd. Sour Difcontent and pining Care, Attaint the Fragrance of the Air, Difturb the lilent Shade.
Page 63 - And plans a future fame ; What, is the phantom he purfues ! What the advantage that accrues ! Alas ! an empty name ! To him, the grove no pleafure yields.
Page 65 - Can thefe, the flaves of faftiion's pow'r, Enjoy the filent, tranquil hour, And bloom with nature's glow ? Or, to the votaries of...
Page 66 - Twere folly to be great ! May I thro' life ferenely flide, As yon clear dreams, which filent glide. Nor quit this lov'd retreat. Beneath this leafy arch reclin'd, I tafte more true content of mind, Than frolic mirth can give ; Here to the bufy world unknown, I feel each blifsful hour my own. And learn the art to live! While turning nature's volume o'er, Frelh beauties rife, unfeen before.
Page 68 - ArtKtc&i a GOD ! Oh ! facred blifs ! THY paths to trace ! And happieft They, of Human Race, To whom this pow'r is giv'n, Each day, in fome fequefter'd fhade, By Contemplation's foftring aid, To plume the Soul for Heav'n ! TheDAUGHTER,aM>W.
Page 65 - Can e'er the Slaves of Fafhion's pow'r, Enjoy the filent tranquil hour, And bloom with Nature's glow ? Or, to the Votaries of Senfe, Can Solitude her fweets difpenfe, And...
Page 128 - Man forgets, yet GOD regards, The Sympathy benign ; And with eternal blifs rewards The laudable Jefign.
Page 64 - Can thefe, the Slaves of Fafhion's Pow'r, Enjoy the filent, tranquil Hour, And bloom with Nature's Glow? Or, to the Votaries of Senfe...
Page 128 - ... of doing good. Beauty may lend the cheek a Rofc That haftens to decay ; But Charity a wreath beftows Which ne'er mail fade away.
Page 127 - Heav'n-defcended Charity ! Thou fource of conftant joy ! Our higheft pleafure flows from thee ; T impart is to enjoy ! Nor Pleafures lure, nor idle noife Can fatisfy the mind; The Soul afpires to nobler joys, To Tranfports more refin'd ! Gold in itfelf's a fhining toy ; But rightly underftood, Conveys the moft exalted joy, The pmu'r of doing good.

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