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Page 117 - In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes ; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Page 63 - The dew, the blossom on the tree, With charms inconstant shine : Their charms were his ; but, woe to me ! Their constancy was mine. " For still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain.
Page 62 - Alas ! the joys that fortune brings, Are trifling and decay ; And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they. « And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep ; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?
Page 86 - You need be under no uneasiness," cried I, " about selling the rims, for they are not worth sixpence, for I perceive they are only copper varnished over.
Page 117 - Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound.
Page 60 - Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale, And guide my lonely way, To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. t " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; . . Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem length'ning as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Page 60 - Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go.'" " Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Page 141 - I had rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late ; I was brow-beat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the mistress, worried by the boys within, and never permitted to stir out to meet civility abroad. But are you sure you are fit for a school? Let me examine you a little. Have you been bred apprentice to the business ? No.
Page ii - THERE are a hundred faults in this Thing, and a hundred things might be said to prove them beauties. But it is needless. A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull •without a single absurdity.
Page 64 - Twas Edwin's self that prest. " Turn, Angelina, ever dear ! My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here Restor'd to love and thee. " Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign : And shall we never, never part, My life — my all that's mine ? "No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true ; The sigh that rends thy constant heart, Shall break thy Edwin's, too.