The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, Том 30

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Страница 232 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Страница 338 - ... there is all Nature cries aloud Through all her works). He must delight in virtue ; And that which He delights in must be happy. But when ? or where ? This world was made for Caesar — I'm weary of conjectures — this must end them.
Страница 236 - Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my pains beguile : The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crowned, And streams shall murmur all around...
Страница 232 - In foreign realms and lands remote, Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air.
Страница 337 - Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, — And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works, — He must delight in virtue; And that which He delights in must be happy.
Страница 284 - A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Страница 259 - And heavily in clouds brings on the day, The great, th' important day, big with the fate Of Cato and of Rome" Our father's death Would fill up all the guilt of civil war, And close the scene of blood.
Страница 117 - Their stated course, and leave the beaten track. The youth was in a maze, nor did he know Which way to turn the reins, or where to go ; Nor wou'd the horses, had he known, obey.
Страница 233 - For though in dreadful whirls we hung High on the broken wave, I knew thou wert not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save.
Страница 261 - Remember what our father oft has told us : The ways of heaven are dark and intricate, Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors : Our understanding traces them in vain, Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search : Nor sees with how much art the windings run, Nor where the regular confusion ends.

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