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Pagina 132 - The noble sister of Poplicola, The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle That's curdled by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple This is no more than illustrating a quality of the mind, by comparing it with a sensible object.
Pagina 156 - WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose ; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new: Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.
Pagina 121 - Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head ; As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Pagina 78 - Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i...
Pagina cxi - Farewell, great painter of mankind ! Who reach'd the noblest point of art, Whose pictured morals charm the mind, And through the eye correct the heart. If Genius fire thee, reader, stay, If nature touch thee, drop a tear, If neither move thee — turn away — For Hogarth's honour'd dust lies here.
Pagina 20 - For others good, or melt at others woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade !) Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier. By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd and by strangers mourn'd ! What tho...
Pagina 110 - But now after that ye have known God, or rather are known of God, how turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements, whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage ? Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years. I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain.
Pagina 27 - Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor ; This year, a reservoir, to keep and spare ; The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir, In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
Pagina lxxv - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.