The Miscellaneous Works of Joseph Addison, 2. köide

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Lewis A. Lewis, 1830

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Page 56 - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind in conscious virtue bold, " Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
Page 121 - 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 naught ? 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.
Page 118 - How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue ! Who would not be that youth ? what pity is it That we can die but once to serve our country...
Page 120 - Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.
Page 122 - The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Page 57 - A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state! While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
Page 82 - Utica, And at the head of your own little senate; You don't now thunder in the capitol, With all the mouths of Rome to second you. Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us hither, 'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinned its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, Which conquest, and success...
Page 94 - tis no matter, we shall do without him. He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph, And serve to trip before the victor's chariot. Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.
Page 78 - My voice is still for war. Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death! No, let us rise at once, gird on our swords, , And, at the head of our remaining troops, Attack the foe, break through the thick array Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him.
Page 95 - So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend, Sudden, th' impetuous hurricanes descend, Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play, Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away. The helpless traveller, with wild surprise, Sees the dry desert all around him rise, And smother'd in the dusty whirlwind dies.

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