The Polyanthos, 4±ÇJ. T. Buckingham, 1807 |
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16 ÆäÀÌÁö
... feel his care for all that lives ; ¡æ " Tis this that makes the barren waste appear A frugal field , each grove a paradise . Yes ! place me ' mid far stretching woodless wilds , Where no sweet song is heard ; the heathbell there Would ...
... feel his care for all that lives ; ¡æ " Tis this that makes the barren waste appear A frugal field , each grove a paradise . Yes ! place me ' mid far stretching woodless wilds , Where no sweet song is heard ; the heathbell there Would ...
17 ÆäÀÌÁö
... feeling and sensibility . Well does the raven love the sound of war.- Amid those plains where Danube darkly rolls , The theatres , on which the kingly play Of war is oftenest acted , there the peal Of cannon mouths , summons the sable ...
... feeling and sensibility . Well does the raven love the sound of war.- Amid those plains where Danube darkly rolls , The theatres , on which the kingly play Of war is oftenest acted , there the peal Of cannon mouths , summons the sable ...
27 ÆäÀÌÁö
... feel your pulse , With an owl's face , that shall express as much As Galen's head , cut out in wood and gilt . I would distil Each flower that lavish happiness produced , Through the world's paradise , ere Disobedience Scatter'd the ...
... feel your pulse , With an owl's face , that shall express as much As Galen's head , cut out in wood and gilt . I would distil Each flower that lavish happiness produced , Through the world's paradise , ere Disobedience Scatter'd the ...
35 ÆäÀÌÁö
... feeling and no passions . The hearer must never be drowsy ; for noth ing perplexes a talker , or reader of his , own works , like the accident of sleep in the midst of his barangue and I have knoiva a French talker rise up and hold open ...
... feeling and no passions . The hearer must never be drowsy ; for noth ing perplexes a talker , or reader of his , own works , like the accident of sleep in the midst of his barangue and I have knoiva a French talker rise up and hold open ...
65 ÆäÀÌÁö
... feels to bestow on genius and talent the well - earned meed of approbation . This pleasure we feel , though not without some particles of alloy , when we recollect Mrs. Stanley's personation of Lady Townly . " Grace was in every step ...
... feels to bestow on genius and talent the well - earned meed of approbation . This pleasure we feel , though not without some particles of alloy , when we recollect Mrs. Stanley's personation of Lady Townly . " Grace was in every step ...
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actor anec appearance applause approbation audience Bateleurs beauty Boston Byles called Caulfield character CHARLES BANNISTER charms comedy comick criticks death delight dramatick elegant Enfants Sans Souci excellence excited fair Fair Penitent farce favour favourite feel Fennell Finlander friends Garrick genius gentleman give grin Halif happy Harts Haymarket theatre heart heaven honour hour human Humphreys Lady lative letter live Lord Macbeth MATHER BYLES melancholy merit mind moral Mort musick nature never night o'er opinion Othello passions performed person piece play pleasure poem poet poetry POLYANTHOS poor Powell praise publick received RICHARD LOVELACE satire scenes SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL sent Shakespeare Sligo smile song soul speak superiour sweet talents taste tear theatre theatrical thee thing thou thought tion tragedy Venice Preserved vice virtue voice wife winter young youth
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270 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on Kings: Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
271 ÆäÀÌÁö - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
285 ÆäÀÌÁö - I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack : — O, she is gone for ever ! — I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass ; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives.
271 ÆäÀÌÁö - Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together ; Youth is full of pleasance, Age is full of care: Youth like summer morn, Age like winter weather ; Youth like summer brave, Age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, Age's breath is short, Youth is nimble, age is lame : Youth is hot and bold, Age is weak and cold ; Youth is wild, and age is tame.
182 ÆäÀÌÁö - That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse ; So may some gentle Muse With lucky words favour my destined urn ; And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
47 ÆäÀÌÁö - Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth. And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown...
165 ÆäÀÌÁö - Her lips were red; and one was thin Compared to that was next her chin, Some bee had stung it newly: But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.
204 ÆäÀÌÁö - I did their burning rays behold, Nor voice, whose sounds more strange effects do show Than of the Thracian harper have been told. Look to this dying lily, fading rose, Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams Made all the neighbouring herbs and grass rejoice, And think how little is 'twixt life's extremes : The cruel tyrant that did kill those flow'rs, Shall once, ay me ! not spare that spring of yours.
121 ÆäÀÌÁö - Stained me—Oh, death and shame ! — the world looked on. And saw this sinewy savage strike me down, Rain blows upon me, drag me to and fro, On the base earth, like carrion. Desperation, In every fibre of my frame, cried Vengeance ! I left the room which he had quitted : Chance, (Curse on the chance !) while boiling with my wrongs.
25 ÆäÀÌÁö - One of the best that we can show, believe me, Is mildness to a servant. Servants, brother, Are born with fortune's yoke about their necks, And that is galling in itself enough ; We should not goad them under it. Sir E. Brother, your hand. You have a gentle nature : May no mischance e'er ruffle it, my brother...