The History of Modern Europe: With an Account of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: and a View of the Progress of Society, from the Rise of the Modern Kingdoms to the Peace of Paris, in 1763, Том 5

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William Young Birch and Abraham Small, 1802

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Страница 448 - Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
Страница 447 - Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain...
Страница 426 - Thames ! the most loved of all the Ocean's sons, By his old sire, to his embraces runs, Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity ; Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold * : His genuine and less guilty wealth t...
Страница 427 - Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain; Others on earth o'er human race preside, Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide: Of these the chief the care of nations own, And guard with arms divine the British throne. 'Our humbler province is to tend the fair, Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care; To save the powder from too rude a gale, Nor let th...
Страница 317 - The stream was rapid, the shore shelving, the bank above lined with sentinels, the landing-place so narrow as to be easily missed in the dark, and the steepness of the ground such as hardly to be surmounted in the daytime.
Страница 50 - A patriot, sir! Why, patriots spring up like mushrooms! I could raise fifty of them within the four-and-twenty hours. I have raised many of them in one night. It is but refusing to gratify an unreasonable or an insolent demand, and up starts a patriot.
Страница 432 - E'er draw thy sad, thy mindful tears. No, freedom, no, I will not tell How Rome, before thy weeping face, With heaviest sound, a giant-statue, fell, Pushed by a wild and artless race From off its wide ambitious base, When time his northern sons of spoil awoke, And all the blended work of strength and grace, With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke.
Страница 430 - But pliant nature more or less demands, As custom forms her; and all sudden change She hates of habit, even from bad to good. If faults in life, or new emergencies, From habits urge you by long time confirm'd, Slow may the change arrive, and stage by stage; Slow as the shadow o'er the dial moves, Slow as the stealing progress of the year.
Страница 431 - Mark, how the dread Pantheon stands, Amid the domes of modern hands : Amid the toys of idle state, How simply, how severely great ! Then turn, and, while each western clime Presents her tuneful sons to Time, So mark thou Milton's name ; And add, " Thus differs from the throng The spirit which inform'd thy awful song, Which bade thy potent voice protect thy country's fame.
Страница 428 - Who knows, but He whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the storms, Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind, Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?