The Works of Samuel Johnson ...: The Rambler

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Talboys and Wheeler, 1825
 

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Página 160 - He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath, Lords, ladies, captains...
Página 180 - This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, Here lies an honest man : A Poet, blest beyond the Poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's...
Página 23 - What better can we do, than, to the place Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall Before him reverent, and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek?
Página 166 - The Sun to me is dark And silent as the Moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life, And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the Soul, She all in every part; why was the sight To such a tender ball as the eye confined?
Página 141 - Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
Página 238 - Is it not certain that the tragick and comick R. II. n affections have been moved alternately with equal force, and that no plays have oftener filled the eye with tears, and the breast with palpitation, than those which are variegated with interludes of mirth ? I do not, however, think it safe to judge of works of genius merely by the event.
Página 181 - Venus, take my votive glass, Since I am not what I was ; What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.
Página 289 - You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry " Hold, hold !
Página 158 - But will arise and his great name assert : Dagon must stoop, and shall e're long receive Such a discomfit, as shall quite despoil him Of all these boasted Trophies won on me, And with confusion blank his Worshippers.
Página 162 - To live a life half dead, a living death, And buried; but O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave, Buried, yet not exempt By privilege of death and burial From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes.

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