Fables

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D. Appleton, 1896 - 238 страници

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Страница xxxvi - Unblamed thro' life, lamented in thy End. These are thy Honours ! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy dust: But that the Worthy and the Good shall say. Striking their pensive bosoms — 'Here lies GAY!
Страница 2 - His head was silver'd o'er with age, And long experience made him sage ; In summer's heat, and winter's cold, He fed his flock and penn'd the fold; His hours in cheerful labour flew, Nor envy nor ambition knew : His wisdom and his honest fame Through all the country rais'd his name. 4 A deep Philosopher (whose rules Of moral life were drawn from schools) The Shepherd's homely cottage sought, And thus explor'd his reach of thought.
Страница 1 - REMOTE from cities liv'da swain, ./ . Unvex'd with all the cares of gain: /(', " His head was silver'd o'er with age, And long experience made him sage; In summer's heat and winter's cold, He fed his flock and penn'd the fold...
Страница 129 - And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies: She starts, she stops, she pants for breath ; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round, Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appear'd in view ! " Let me (says she) your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend.
Страница 129 - FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care.
Страница xxxvi - Unblam'd through life, lamented in thy end ; These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust ; But that the worthy and the good shall say, Striking their pensive bosoms — Here lies Gay...
Страница 183 - With hands and feet the works of art: While some, of genius more refin'd, With head and tongue assist mankind; Each, aiming at one common end, Proves to the whole a needful friend.
Страница 98 - Dame, (quoth the Raven) spare your oaths, Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes. But why on me those curses thrown ? Goody, the fault was all your own ; For had you laid this brittle ware On Dun, the old sure-footed mare, Though all the Ravens of the Hundred, With croaking had your tongue out-thunder'd, Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs, And you, good Woman, sav'd your eggs.
Страница 73 - Is there no hope ? the Sick Man said. The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow. When thus the Man with gasping...
Страница 183 - Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw ; Some, studious of the wind and tide, From pole to pole, our commerce guide; Some (taught by industry) impart With hands and feet, the works of art ; While some, of genius more...

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