Forty Years in the World: Or, Sketches and Tales of a Soldier's Life, Том 2

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Страница 135 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
Страница 167 - It must not be; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: 'Twill be recorded for a precedent; And many an error, by the same example, Will rush into the state: it cannot be.
Страница 215 - O friendly to the best pursuits of man, Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace...
Страница 252 - God be wi' you; take mine office. — O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice! — 0 monstrous world ! Take note ! take note, O world, To be direct and honest, is not safe.
Страница 229 - It's no in books ; it's no in lear, To make us truly blest: If happiness has not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest...
Страница 21 - Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
Страница 39 - There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die...
Страница 107 - Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main ; And shuddering still to face the distant deep, Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep...
Страница 137 - When Heaven would kindly set us free, And earth's enchantment end ; It takes the most effectual means, And robs us of a friend.
Страница 217 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.

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