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135. oldal - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
104. oldal - SO now is come our joyful'st feast; Let every man be jolly, Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. Now, all our neighbours...
294. oldal - Strange cozenage ! None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain ; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give. I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold, Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
61. oldal - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
294. oldal - Hope's delusive mine,' as Johnson finely says; and I may also quote the celebrated lines of Dryden, equally philosophical and poetical : — When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat, Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit ; Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay ; To-morrow's falser than the former day ; Lies worse ; and, while it says we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
65. oldal - COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802 EARTH has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty : This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill ; Ne'er saw I, never felt,...
8. oldal - Immortal Newton never spoke More truth, than here you'll find, Nor Pope himself e'er penn'da joke More cruel on mankind. '' The picture placed the busts between Gives satire its full strength ; Wisdom and Wit are little seen. But Folly at full length.
136. oldal - I loved the man, and do honour to his memory on this side idolatry as much as any.
40. oldal - KIND words can never die ; Cherished and blest, God knows how deep they lie Stored in the breast ; Like childhood's simple rhymes, Said o'er a thousand times — Aye in all years and climes, Distant and near; Kind words can never die, No ! never die.