The Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith, Volumen2

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Bradbury and Evans, 1854
 

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Página 142 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade...
Página 232 - Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around, And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high. Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired.
Página 142 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please...
Página 454 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind : His pencil was striking, resistless and grand; His manners were gentle, complying and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Página 138 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Página 231 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down...
Página 411 - I have ever hated all nations, professions, and communities, and all my love is towards individuals; for instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love Counsellor Such-a-one and Judge Such-a-one; so with physicians — I will not speak of my own trade — soldiers, English, Scotch, French, and the rest. But principally I hate and detest that animal called man, although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so forth.
Página 308 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Página 240 - And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found...
Página 137 - But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed 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.

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