The Port FolioEditor and Asbury Dickens, 1813 - Philadelphia (Pa.) |
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Page 64
... Tibullus seems to have been the model judiciously preferred to Ovid by his deceased friend who " sincere in his love as in his friendship , wrote to his mistresses as he spoke to his friends , nothing but the true genuine sentiment of ...
... Tibullus seems to have been the model judiciously preferred to Ovid by his deceased friend who " sincere in his love as in his friendship , wrote to his mistresses as he spoke to his friends , nothing but the true genuine sentiment of ...
Page 65
... Tibullus answers to the 13th of Ham- mond , so does the 1st of the latter , beginning- " Farewell that liberty our fathers gave , " to the 4th , in the second book of the former . But as it would be tedious and unnecessary to cite every ...
... Tibullus answers to the 13th of Ham- mond , so does the 1st of the latter , beginning- " Farewell that liberty our fathers gave , " to the 4th , in the second book of the former . But as it would be tedious and unnecessary to cite every ...
Page 66
... Tibullus . Finirent multi letho mala : sed credula vitam Spes fovet , et melius cras foret semper ait . The beginning of the 11th elegy of Hammond , The man who sharpen'd first the warlike steel , How fell and deadly was his iron heart ...
... Tibullus . Finirent multi letho mala : sed credula vitam Spes fovet , et melius cras foret semper ait . The beginning of the 11th elegy of Hammond , The man who sharpen'd first the warlike steel , How fell and deadly was his iron heart ...
Page 67
... Tibullus ; nor can we fully assent to the austere decree of Doctor Johnson , that he did not deserve to gain his mistress , because addressing her in a fictitious character , and under Roman imagery . It is remarka- ble , by the by ...
... Tibullus ; nor can we fully assent to the austere decree of Doctor Johnson , that he did not deserve to gain his mistress , because addressing her in a fictitious character , and under Roman imagery . It is remarka- ble , by the by ...
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Popular passages
Page 57 - Yet there happened in my time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language (where he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member of his speech but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss. He commanded where he spoke; and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion.
Page 195 - Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his honied...
Page 60 - Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry: — I will preach to thee; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day ! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools...
Page 191 - Adieu, adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land — Good night...
Page 193 - For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour ? Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er. For pleasures past I do not grieve, Nor perils gathering near ; My greatest grief is that I leave No thing that claims a tear.
Page 193 - With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine ; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine.
Page 174 - How charming is divine philosophy ! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 69 - The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye; While England lives, his fame can never die: But he who struts his hour upon the stage, Can scarce extend his fame for half an age; Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save, The art, and artist, share one common grave.
Page 474 - And the swallow's song in the eaves. His arms enclosed a blooming boy, Who listened, with tears of sorrow and joy, To the dangers his father had passed ; And his wife — by turns she wept and smiled, As she looked on the father of her child, Returned to her heart at last. — He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, And the rush of waters is in his soul.