Letters ... written between the years 1784 and 1807 [ed. by A. Constable].

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Seite 330 - Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
Seite 273 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.
Seite 165 - I do not like thee, Doctor Fell; The reason why I cannot tell; But this I know and know full well. I do not like thee. Doctor Fell!
Seite 222 - Resolved, their uses done. Not to the grave, not to the grave, my soul, Follow thy friend beloved ; The spirit is not there...
Seite 91 - More dreadful and deform : on th' other side Incenst with indignation Satan stood Unterrifi'd, and like a Comet burn'd, That fires the length of Ophiucus huge In th' Artick Sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes Pestilence and Warr.
Seite 305 - True wit is nature to advantage drest; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well exprest.
Seite 168 - THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, Both speed their journey with a restless stream ; The silent pace with which they steal away, No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay; Alike irrevocable both when past, And a wide ocean swallows both at last.
Seite 168 - Christ, and he is fighting for his own notions. He thinks that he is skilfully searching the hearts of others, when he is only gratifying the malignity of his own, and charitably supposes his hearers destitute of all grace, that he may shine the more in his own eyes by comparison.
Seite 113 - ONCE in the heart, cold in yon narrow cell, Did each mild grace, each ardent virtue dwell ; Kind aid, kind tears for others
Seite 102 - Art thou, my Gregory, for ever fled ! And am I left to unavailing woe ! When fortune's storms assail this weary. head, Where cares long since have shed untim'ely snow ! Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go ! No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. Tis meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh, my tears.

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