The British Essayists: Tatler

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Printed for J. Richardson, 1823 - Literary Collections
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Page 47 - But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew ; nor fragrance, after showers ; Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent Night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Page 5 - So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!
Page 5 - Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman! A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body...
Page 6 - Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she — O God ! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer — married with mine uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules...
Page 47 - With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and...
Page 62 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 48 - Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate; Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.
Page 30 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Page 198 - Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, The source of evil one, and one of good ; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, Blessings to these, to those distributes ills ; To most, he mingles both : the wretch decreed To taste the bad, unmix'd, is curst indeed ; Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of Earth and Heaven.
Page 366 - She was a very beautiful woman, of a noble spirit, and there was a dignity in her grief amidst all the wildness of her transport; which, methought, struck me with an instinct of sorrow, that, before I was sensible of what it was to grieve, seized my very soul, and has made pity the weakness of my heart ever since.