 Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,...  Poetical Works - Страница 17по Oliver Goldsmith - 1806 - 72 странициПълен достъп - Информация за книгата
 | William Cobbett - 1830 - 766 страници
...that which diminishes the quantity of u intellectual enjoyment"; and so now he, " Wondering, man can want the larger pile, " Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile." And they really tell -me, that his present house is not much bigger than that of my dear, good old... | |
 | 1832 - 614 страници
...but to him incomprehensible structures, under the ruins of which it is erected. There in the ruins, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant...larger pile, Exults and owns his cottage with a smile. A work, conceived and executed in a tone like that of M. de Chateaubriand's Abencerrages, would have... | |
 | William Tait, Christian Isobel Johnstone - 1833 - 850 страници
...Goldsmith viewed Switzerland with the eye of a philosopher. See the Traveller, the lines commencing — " My soul, turn from them : turn we to survey, Where rougher climes a nobler race display." •f Academ. 1. ic 18. Sec the remaining portion of the chapter. The second School of the Academy said... | |
 | Alexander Jamieson - 1835 - 312 страници
...Europe ! Thus, after describing the effeminate and debased Romans, the poet proceeds to the Swiss : — My soul, turn from them — turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display. And. after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant but unrefmed people, his thoughts are... | |
 | Author of The young man's own book - 1836 - 336 страници
...which nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. YoUNG. DESCRIPTION OF THE SWISS. rf MY soul turn from them, turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display; Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread. No product here... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, John Murray, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero - 1836 - 610 страници
...beasts for fight, closed again and vanished without help.' But enough of these bloody scenes — 4 My soul turn from them, turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display :' where enormous wealth is expended, not as it was by the son-inlaw of Sylla, but in applying the arts to the... | |
 | 1836 - 1184 страници
...hundred beasts for fight, closed again and vanished without help.' But enough of these bloody scenes— 1 My soul turn from them, turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display:' where enormous wealth is expended, not as it was by the son-inlaw of Sylla, but in applying the arts to the... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, John Murray, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero - 1836 - 606 страници
...beasts for fight, closed again and vanished without help.' But enough of these bloody scenes — ' My soul turn from them, turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display :' where enormous wealth is expended, not as it was by the son-inlaw of Sylla, but in applying the arts to the... | |
 | Oliver Goldsmith - 1838 - 544 страници
...meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes, where Caisars once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering n I'll sing you, gentlemen, a long I made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeon*. SONG. Let bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread No product here... | |
 | Oliver Goldsmith - 1837 - 472 страници
...meanness occupy the mind: As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,...Where rougher climes a nobler race display, Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread; No product here... | |
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