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Page 162 - God loves from whole to parts : but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake : The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds ; Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; His country next ; and next all human race...
Page 71 - After we came out of the church, we stood talking for some time together of bishop Berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence of matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. I observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is impossible to refute it. I never shall forget the alacrity with which Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large stone, till he rebounded from it —
Page 198 - Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. His wit all see-saw, between that and this, Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile antithesis. Amphibious thing ! that acting either part, The trifling head or the corrupted heart, Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board, Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. Eve's tempter thus the rabbins have expressed, A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust; Wit that can creep, and...
Page 438 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain. But when I speak — thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st...
Page 554 - I have always suspected that the reading is right, which requires many words to prove it wrong ; and the emendation wrong, that cannot without so much labour appear to be right.
Page 438 - twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook That I must look in vain. But when I speak, thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ; And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary, thou art dead ! If thou wouldst stay e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been.
Page 547 - And having been a little chastised, they shall be greatly rewarded : for God proved them, and found them worthy for himself.
Page 439 - Sweet Mary, thou art dead! If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been. While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still mine own; But there I lay thee in thy grave, — And I am now alone! I do not think, where'er thou art, Thou hast forgotten me; And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart In thinking, too, of thee; Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light ne'er seen before, As fancy never could...
Page 430 - The oaks of the mountains fall ; the mountains themselves decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and grows again ; the moon herself is lost in heaven ; but thou art for ever the same rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm.
Page 430 - But thou art perhaps, like me, for a season, and thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the. voice of the morning. Exult then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth ! Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills ; the blast of the north is on the plain, the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.