The British Essayists: With Prefaces, Historical and Biographical, Volume 30

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Alexander Chalmers
Little, Brown, 1856 - English essays

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Page 215 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 160 - L'empire de la femme est un empire de douceur, d'adresse et de complaisance; ses ordres sont des caresses, ses menaces sont des pleurs.
Page 30 - Whitlocke talks of one Milton, as he calls him, a blind man, who was employed in translating a treaty with Sweden into Latin.
Page 36 - There is sometiling in the look, the manner, the voice, and still more the silence, of such a one as I mean, that has no connection with any thing material ; at least no more than just to make one think such a soul is lodged as it deserves. — In short, Sir, a fine woman — I could have...
Page 201 - Bassett, in the same county. In this station, applying himself with that industry which was natural to him, he attended the House with a scrupulous punctuality, and was a useful member. His talents for business acquired the consideration to which they were entitled, and were not unnoticed by the Minister.
Page 47 - I have seen,' replied the Colonel, ' your young folks have no time for them now-a-days ; their pleasures begin so early, and come so thick,' ' 'Tis the way to make the most of their time.' —
Page 286 - d the sacred leaves of gold. Let me with holy awe repair, To the solemn house of prayer. And as I go, O thou ! my heart, Forget each low and earthly part. Religion enter in my breast, A mild and venerable guest ! Put off in Contemplation drown'd, Each thought impure in holy ground, And cautious tread with awful fear The courts of Heav'n ; for God is here.
Page 215 - I care not, Fortune, what you me deny: You cannot rob me of free Nature's Grace; You cannot shut the Windows of the Sky, Through which Aurora shews her brightening Face: You cannot bar my constant Feet to trace The Woods and Lawns, by living Stream, at Eve: Let Health my Nerves and finer Fibres brace, And I their Toys to the great Children leave; Of Fancy, Reason, Virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 188 - Love is invested in many of our tragedies, it overbears every virtue and every duty. The obligations of justice and of humanity sink before it. The king, the chief, the patriot, forgets his people, his followers, and his country; while parents and children mention the dearest objects of natural attachment only to lead them in the triumph of their love. It is the business of tragedy to exhibit the passions, that is, the weaknesses of men.
Page 33 - He was,' continued my friend, ' a professed admirer and votary of the sex : and when he was a young man fought three duels for the honour of the ladies, in one of which he was run through the body, but luckily escaped with his life. The lady, however, for whom he fought, did not reward her knight as she ought to have done, but soon after married another man with a larger fortune ; upon which he forswore society in a great measure, and, though he continued for several years to do his duty in the army,...

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