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The Poetical and Dramatic Works of Oliver Goldsmith, M. B
No preview available - 2015
The Poetical and Dramatic Works of Oliver Goldsmith, M.B.: Now First ...
Oliver Goldsmith,Thomas Evans
No preview available - 2015
appear bard beſt bleft bliſs breaſt brother character charms dear deſire Doctor eyes face fail fall fame fire firſt fond give Goldſmith half hand head heart heaven himſelf honour hopes hour humble Italy kind land laſt late learning leave lies looks lord luxury manners meet merit mind moſt muſt nature never night o'er OLIVER once pain perhaps piece plain pleaſe pleaſure poem poet poor praiſe pride proud Reynolds riſe round ſcene ſee ſeems ſeen ſeveral ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmiling ſome ſoul ſports ſpread ſtate ſtill ſtranger ſuch ſweet tears thee theſe things thoſe thou thought tion toil train turn Twas village wealth whoſe write
Page 51 - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Page 61 - Where wealth, accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Page 59 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 66 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Page 104 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Page 42 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 67 - Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high, 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.
Page 66 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault...