Какво казват хората - Напишете рецензия
Не намерихме рецензии на обичайните места.
Други издания - Преглед на всички
acquainted admirers allow amongst appear beauties believe boards cause character charms considered contained described early effects England English equally excellence exist fair fall fancy feel Fielding force genius Goldsmith hand happy head heart Henry hero HISTORY honour hope hour human humour imagine inspired instances interesting Italy Jones kind lady learned least less letter light reading lived means mind morals nature never novels object observed octavo Owen passages passed perhaps persons perusal piece poem poet poetical pointed possess powers present Price prove reader reason received reflection remarkable respect scene smile society step style suffered supposed sweet talents Task taste termed thing thought tion touch truth turn verse Village virtue vols volumes writing young youth
Страница 175 - Ah, turn thine eyes Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head...
Страница 189 - No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced; no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom an Indian or an African sun may have burnt upon him; no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down; no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of Slavery; the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust...
Страница 188 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Страница 142 - She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn; She only left of all the harmless train, The sad historian of the pensive plain.
Страница 168 - ... Where the broad ocean leans against the land, And sedulous to stop the coming tide, Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Spreads its long arms amidst the watery roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile, Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile ; The slow canal the yellow-blossom'd vale, The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowded mart, the cultivated...
Страница 167 - Far to the right, where Apennine ascends, Bright as the summer, Italy extends ; Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between With venerable grandeur mark the scene.
Страница 173 - His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side : But in his duty prompt at every call, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all. And as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Страница 174 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were giv'n, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.