Songs of the Press: And Other Poems Relative to the Art of Printers and Printing, Also of Authors, Books, Booksellers, Bookbinders, Editors, Critics, Newspapers, Etc. Original and Selected. With Notes, Biographical and Literary
Fisher, 1845 - 208 oldal
Mit mondanak mások - Írjon ismertetőt
Nem találtunk ismertetőket a szokott helyeken.
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Songs of the Press, and Other Poems: Relative to the Art of Printers and ...
C. H. Timperley
Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2016
appear bear bless booksellers bring cause Caxton chapel cheer close compose copy correct critic dark Devil drink earth editor fair fall fame fear feel fire freedom friends give glorious glory hand happy head hear heart heaven hour immortal keep knowledge land laws learning leaves letters liberty light live London look Lord matter meet mighty mind Muse ne'er never NEWSPAPER night noble o'er once pass peace Pension poor praise Press Printers Printing proof rare readers rise round rule sing smile SONG soon soul stand sure tell thee thing thou thought thousand true truth turn tyrants
153. oldal - THE BODY of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Printer, (like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stript of its lettering and gilding) lies here food for worms ; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition, corrected and amended by THE AUTHOR.
134. oldal - Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns ? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge That tempts Ambition. On the summit see The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs, he pants, he grasps them ! At his heels, Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down, And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft Meanders lubricate the course they take ; The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved To...
114. oldal - This BOOKS can do; - nor this alone; they give New views to life, and teach us how to live; They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise, Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise: Their aid they yield to all: they never shun The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone: Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud, They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd...
75. oldal - Nor be so civil as to prove unjust. Fear not the anger of the wise to raise : Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.
153. oldal - Paper — an unsullied sheet, On which the happy man, whom fate ordains, May write his name, and take her for his pains. One instance more, and only one, I'll bring : Tis the Great Man who scorns a little thing, Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims...
137. oldal - Yet e'en in transitory life's late day, That mingles all my brown with sober gray, Revere the man, whose pilgrim marks the road, And guides the progress of the soul to God. 'Twere well with most, if books, that could engage Their childhood, pleased them at a riper age ; The man, approving what had charmed the boy, Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy ; And not with curses on his heart, who stole The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.
152. oldal - Is coarse brown paper, such as pedlars choose To wrap up wares, which better men will use. Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. Will any paper match him?
152. oldal - Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout, He's a true sinking paper,' past all doubt. The retail politician's anxious thought Deems this side always right, and that stark naught...
185. oldal - THE SEA THE Sea! the Sea! the open Sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round; It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies; Or like a cradled creature lies.
83. oldal - Then rose the embattled corn ; Then floods of praise ' Flow'd o'er the sunny hills of noon ; And then, in stillest night, the moon Pour'd forth her pensive lays. Lo, heaven's bright bow is glad ! Lo, trees and flowers all clad In glory, bloom ! And shall the mortal sons of God Be senseless as the trodden clod, And darker than the tomb ? No, by the mind of man ! By the swart artisan ! By God, our Sire ! Our souls have holy light within. And every form of grief and sin Shall see and feel its fire.