The British Essayists: Spectator

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Lionel Thomas Berguer
T. and J. Allman, 1823
 

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Page 238 - It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man ! Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes...
Page 238 - I'm weary of conjectures — this must end them. [Laying his hand on his sword.\ Thus am I doubly arm'd ; my death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me.
Page 66 - Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
Page 184 - What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own ? was the result of a laudable ambition.
Page 146 - Pleasure to look at, twas Music to hear. But now she is absent, I walk by its Side, And still, as it murmurs, do nothing but chide: 'Must you be so cheerful, while I go in pain? Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.
Page 58 - I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell ; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell : God knoweth ;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.
Page 256 - And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures?
Page 38 - I say, might give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, considering that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. But when the choice we actually have before us is this, whether we will...
Page 194 - Not the red arm of angry Jove, That flings the thunder from the sky, And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly. Should the whole frame of nature round him break, In ruin, and confusion hurl'd, He, unconcern'd would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure, amidst a falling world.
Page 146 - My dog I was ever well pleased to see •Come wagging his tail to my fair one and me ; And Phoebe was pleased too, and to my dog said, Come hither, poor fellow — and patted his head. But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour look Cry, Sirrah...

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