The Literary Magazine, and American Register, Том 3

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Charles Brockden Brown
John Conrad & Company, 1805
 

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Страница 183 - But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know ? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease; The naked negro, panting at the Line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Страница 426 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than Heaven pursue. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T
Страница 363 - ... for a wrong thing. I answered that it was no love but friendship, as it was what I felt for him; we had not seen one another enough to love (as if love must have more time than friendship !) This was sincerely my meaning, and I had this meaning till Klopstock came again to Hamburg. This he did a year after we had seen one another the first time. We saw we were friends; we loved, and we believed that we loved; and a short time after I could even tell Klopstock that I loved.
Страница 257 - Can there be any thing more ridiculous, than that a father should waste his own money, and his son's time, in setting him to learn the Roman language, when, at the same time, he designs him for a trade, wherein he, having no use of Latin, fails not to forget that little which he brought from school, and which it is ten to one he abhors for the ill usage it procured him?
Страница 423 - Tartars seize their destin'd prey. In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs, New lustre to those charms impart? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrow'd gloss of art?
Страница 354 - I sit with all the windows and the door wide open, and am regaled with the scent of every flower, in a garden as full of flowers as I have known how to make it. We keep no bees, but if I lived in a hive, I should hardly hear more of their music. All the bees in the...
Страница 358 - With the unwearied application of a plodding Flemish painter, who draws a shrimp with the most minute exactness, he had all the genius of one of the first masters. Never, I believe, were such talents and such drudgery united.
Страница 357 - My descriptions are all from nature ; not one of them second-handed. My delineations of the heart are from my own experience; not one of them borrowed from books, or in the least degree conjectural.
Страница 422 - Sweet maid, if thou wouldst charm my sight. And bid these arms thy neck infold; That rosy cheek, that lily hand. Would give thy poet more delight Than all Bocara's vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand.
Страница 284 - For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue: If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost...

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