The Poetical Works of Oliver Goldsmith

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George Bell, 1895 - 192 oldal

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34. oldal - With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace Tho day's disasters in his morning
32. oldal - Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire, and talked the night away; \ 1 Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and
8. oldal - Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good. But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care : Impelled, with steps unceasing, to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view; \J That, like the circle bounding earth and
91. oldal - HEN lovely Woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom—is, to die. A DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BEDCHAMBER. 1
22. oldal - To seek a good each government bestows ? In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure. Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
33. oldal - Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And even his failings leaned to virtue's side ; But in his duty prompt at every call, He
30. oldal - 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 ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
28. oldal - all these charms are fled. Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain
36. oldal - statesmen who survey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land. 1 Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore. And shouting Folly hails them from her shore
68. oldal - No flocks that range the valley free To slaughter I condemn : Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them: VII. " But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring ; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring.

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