Essays on the Lives and Writings of Fletcher of Saltoun and the Poet Thomson: Biographical, Critical, and Political. With Some Pieces of Thomson's Never Before Published

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J. Debrett, 1792 - 280 pages
 

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Page 193 - OR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between, and bid us part : Bid us sigh on from day to day, And wish, and wish the soul away, Till youth and genial years are flown, And all the life of life is gone...
Page 179 - He thinks in a peculiar train, and he thinks always as a man of genius ; he looks round on nature and on life with the eye which Nature bestows only on a poet : the eye that distinguishes, in...
Page 221 - The two fields next to me, from the first of which I have walled — no, no — paled in about as much as my garden consisted of before, so that the walk runs round the hedge, where you may figure me walking any time of the day, and sometimes...
Page 202 - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.
Page 208 - I can make them now is by kindness to those they left behind them.
Page 179 - As a writer, he is entitled to one praise of the highest kind: his mode of thinking, and of expressing his thoughts, is original. His blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton, or of any other poet, than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes of Cowley.
Page 193 - FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S. J\S those we love decay, we die in part, String after string is sever'd from the heart; Till loosen'd life, at last, but breathing clay, Without one pang is glad to fall away. Unhappy he, who latest feels the blow, Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid low, Dragg'd lingering on from partial death to death, Till, dying, all he can resign is breath.
Page 36 - For dignity compos'd and high exploit : But all was falfe and hollow ; though his tongue Dropt manna, and could make the worfe appear The better reafon, to perplex and...
Page 207 - Her speech was the melodious voice of Love, Her song the warbling of the vernal grove ; Her eloquence was sweeter than her song, Soft as her heart, and as her...
Page 265 - ... doomed to a place so delightfully tiresome. Delightfully, did I say? No; it is merely a scene of waking dreams, where nothing but the phantoms of pleasure fly about, without any substance or reality. What a round of silly amusements, what a giddy circle of nothing do these children of a larger size run every day ! Nor does it only give a gay vertigo to the head, it has equally a bad influence on the heart. When the head is full of nothing but...

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