The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, 23. köide

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Samuel Johnson
C. Bathurst, 1779
 

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Page 211 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 213 - Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, Thy bounty shall my pains beguile : The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crowned, And streams shall murmur all around...
Page 287 - Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, — And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Through all her works, — He must delight in virtue; And that which He delights in must be happy.
Page 287 - Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror Of falling into...
Page 39 - Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate, And hold in balance each contending state, To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war, And answer her afflicted neighbours pray'r.
Page 209 - To all my weak complaints and cries, Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd To form themselves in pray'r. Unnumber'd comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart conceiv'd From whom those comforts flow'd. When, in the slipp'ry paths of youth, With heedless steps, I ran, Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe, And led me up to man.
Page 147 - And each by turns his aking heart assails. As he thus ponders, he behind him spies His opening hounds, and now he hears their cries: A generous pack, or to maintain the chase, Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass.
Page 263 - Thus o'er the dying lamp th' unsteady flame Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits, And falls again, as loth to quit its hold. — Thou must not go, my soul still hovers o'er thee, And can't get loose.
Page 269 - Remember, O my friends, the laws, the rights, The generous plan of power deliver'd down, From age to age, by your renown'd forefathers, (So dearly bought, the price of so much blood) O let it never perish in your hands ! But piously transmit it to your children.
Page 210 - Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Has doubled all my store.

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