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Page 684 - No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Page 700 - Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought ; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Page 684 - Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art...
Page 405 - This is that which I think great readers are apt to be mistaken in. Those who have read of everything are thought to understand everything too; but it is not always so. Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking makes what we read ours.
Page 684 - Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place...
Page 684 - Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land.
Page 699 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; — So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore " Where tempests never beat nor billows roar," And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Page 670 - The style of an author should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command of language is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were made before I could hit the middle tone between a dull chronicle and a rhetorical declamation : three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was EDWAHD GIBBON tolerably satisfied with their effect.
Page 700 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Page 700 - No powder'd pert proficient in the art Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors Till the street rings. No stationary steeds Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, The silent circle fan themselves and quake. But here the needle plies its busy task, The pattern grows, the well-depicted...