The Universal Anthology: A Collection of the Best Literature, Ancient, Mediaeval and Modern, with Biographical and Explanatory Notes, Том 18Richard Garnett, Léon Vallée, Alois Brandl Clarke Company, limited, 1899 |
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Страница 18
... Father , if it be possible , let this cup pass from me ! Neverthe- less , not my will , but thine be done ! " This he introduced fre- quently in his sermons ; and one who lived with him says , the effect was not destroyed by repetition ...
... Father , if it be possible , let this cup pass from me ! Neverthe- less , not my will , but thine be done ! " This he introduced fre- quently in his sermons ; and one who lived with him says , the effect was not destroyed by repetition ...
Страница 25
... fathers and mothers are not made by nature to teach , nor chil- dren to be taught . I lacked experience then ; I had still all the illusion and the enthusiasm which produced virtue in an upright spirit : also , that opinion revolted me ...
... fathers and mothers are not made by nature to teach , nor chil- dren to be taught . I lacked experience then ; I had still all the illusion and the enthusiasm which produced virtue in an upright spirit : also , that opinion revolted me ...
Страница 36
... father had got forwards again upon his journey to within a stride of the compasses of the very same stage of Nevers . By your leave , Mons . Sanson , cried my father , striking the point of his com- passes through Nevers into the table ...
... father had got forwards again upon his journey to within a stride of the compasses of the very same stage of Nevers . By your leave , Mons . Sanson , cried my father , striking the point of his com- passes through Nevers into the table ...
Страница 37
... father in amazement . No : he is dead , my dear brother , quoth my uncle Toby . - Without being ill ? cried my father again . I dare say not , said my Uncle Toby , in a low voice , and fetching a deep sigh from the bottom of his heart ...
... father in amazement . No : he is dead , my dear brother , quoth my uncle Toby . - Without being ill ? cried my father again . I dare say not , said my Uncle Toby , in a low voice , and fetching a deep sigh from the bottom of his heart ...
Страница 38
... father was as proud of his eloquence as Marcus Tullius Cicero could be for his life , and , for aught I am convinced ... father's tongue , and a misfortune which let it loose with a good grace , were pretty equal : sometimes , indeed ...
... father was as proud of his eloquence as Marcus Tullius Cicero could be for his life , and , for aught I am convinced ... father's tongue , and a misfortune which let it loose with a good grace , were pretty equal : sometimes , indeed ...
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Acres America arms better born Britain British called character charms Clinker colonies cried dear death Elmira England English eyes father Faulkland favor fear feel fight Fingal followed force Gaul gentleman George Grenville give Green Mountain Boys hand happy Harley hath hear heart Heaven honor hope House of Commons Humphry Humphry Clinker king ladies land Lathmon laws liberty live look Lord madam Madame du Deffand Malaprop Marlow ment mind minister Miss Hardcastle Morni nature never night o'er OLIVER GOLDSMITH Ossian parliament passion peace person Philoctetes pleasure political poor Redgauntlet replied Roxalana scarce seemed side Sir Lucius slaves Soliman soul spirit Strawberry Hill sultan sword tears tell thee things thou thought thousand tion turn uncle Toby voice Walpole Whig whole wife wish word
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Страница 394 - For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world: For imposing taxes on us without our consent: For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury: For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses: For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province...
Страница 183 - Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw; And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return - and die at home at last.
Страница 183 - Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down...
Страница 186 - Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault...
Страница 28 - YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope ; who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow ; attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia.
Страница 93 - 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 89 - A weary waste expanding to the skies : Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Страница 96 - Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by...
Страница 181 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
Страница 98 - E'en now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays Through tangled forests, and through dangerous ways; Where beasts with man divided empire claim, And the brown Indian marks with murderous aim ; There, while above the giddy tempest flies, And all around distressful yells arise, The pensive exile, bending with his woe, To stop too fearful, and too faint to go, Casts a long look where England's glories shine, And bids his bosom sympathize with mine.