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Page 73 - THE poesy of this young lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His «cffusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get (above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant 'water.
Page 72 - He has visited all Europe, — not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern art ; not to collect medals, or collate manuscripts : — but to dive into the depths of dungeons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the...
Page 81 - O Pallas, thou hast failed thy plighted word, To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword. I warned thee, but in vain, for well I knew What perils youthful ardour would pursue ; That boiling blood would carry thee too far ; Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war. O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom, Prelude of bloody fields and fights to come.
Page 245 - Tis an excellent world that we live in To lend, to spend, or to give in ; But to borrow, or beg, or get a man's own, *Tis just the worst world that ever was known.
Page 68 - No, a Canadian winter for my money, or a Russian one, where every man is but a co-proprietor with the north wind in the fee-simple of his own ears.
Page 70 - Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low, the woods Bow their hoar head...
Page 248 - The seas that roll unnumber'd waves; The wood that spreads its shady leaves ; The field whose ears conceal the grain, The yellow treasure of the plain ; All of these, and all I see...
Page 81 - Let him for succour sue from place to place, Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace. First let him see his friends in battle slain, And their untimely fate lament in vain: And when at length the cruel war shall cease, On hard conditions may he buy his peace: Nor let him then enjoy supreme command ; But fall, untimely, by some hostile hand, And lie unburied on the barren sand!
Page 76 - In honour of the dead. The lambkin crops its crimson gem, The wild bee murmurs on its breast, The blue-fly bends its pensile stem, Light o'er the sky-lark's nest. 'Tis Flora's page: — In every place, In every season, fresh and fair, It opens with perennial grace, And blossoms everywhere. On waste and woodland, rock and plain, Its humble buds unheeded rise; The Rose has but a summer reign, — The Daisy never dies.
Page 79 - By-and-by the door opened, and a man entered, very much muffled up in his cloak ; and his face quite hid in it. — He approached the body, considered it, very attentively, for some time : and then shook his head and sighed out the words, ' cruel necessity !' — He then departed in the same slow and concealed manner as he had come in. — Lord Southampton used to say, that he could not distinguish anything of his face ; but that by his voice and gait, he took him to be Oliver Cromwell.