The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, Band 72

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Seite 4 - But all whom hunger spares, with age decay: Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire, And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, And here the fell attorney prowls for prey; Here falling houses thunder on your head, And here a female atheist talks you dead.
Seite 25 - He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Seite 17 - LET observation with extensive view, Survey mankind, from China to Peru ; Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, And watch the busy scenes of crowded life...
Seite 24 - On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes let Swedish Charles decide ; A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ; No joys to him pacific...
Seite 23 - ... for thee; Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause awhile from letters, to be wise; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. See nations slowly wise, and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end.
Seite 22 - Ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless Day ; Should no false Kindness lure to loose Delight, Nor Praise relax, nor Difficulty fright ; Should tempting...
Seite 6 - Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite To vote a patriot black, a courtier white; Explain their country's dear-bought rights away, And plead for pirates in the face of day; With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, And lend a lie the confidence of truth.
Seite 33 - Ah ! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice ; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Seite 18 - Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of pow'r, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tow'r, Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, Tho' confiscation's vultures hover round. The needy traveller, serene and gay, Walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away. Does envy seize thee? crush th...
Seite 56 - The busy day — the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by ; His frame was firm — his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.

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