The Stranger in France: Or, A Tour from Devonshire to Paris

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J. Johnson, 1803 - France - 261 pages

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Page 212 - Let that day be darkness ; let not God regard it from above, Neither let the light shine upon it. Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it ; Let a cloud dwell upon it , Let the blackness of the day terrify it.
Page 225 - Tis not to make me jealous, To say — my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me...
Page 108 - Sibila lambebant linguis vibrantibus ora. DIFFUGIMUS visu exsangues : illi agmine certo Laocoonta petunt; et primum parva duorum Corpora natorum serpens amplexus uterque Implicat , et miseros morsu depascitur artus. Post ipsum , auxilio subeuntem ac tela ferentem Corripiunt , spirisque ligant ingentibus : et jam Bis medium amplexi , bis collo squamea circum Terga dati , superant capite et cervicibus altis.
Page 84 - Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Page 24 - Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high: — I'll look no more; Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong.
Page 208 - Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Page 62 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 217 - And want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up...
Page 246 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 95 - O could I flow like thee ! and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme ; Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull ; Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.

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