The British poets, including translations


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Seite 263 - We'll form their minds, with studious care, To all that's manly, good, and fair, And train them for the skies.
Seite 262 - If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies ; And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.
Seite 263 - Our portion is not large, indeed ; But then how little do we need ! For Nature's calls are few : In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may suffice, And make that little do.
Seite 267 - To-morrow! It is a period nowhere to be found In all the hoary registers of Time, Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society With those who own it.
Seite 262 - Tho' singularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside, Nor join the giddy dance. From the gay world, we'll oft retire To our own family and fire, Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neighbour enters here. No intermeddling stranger near, To spoil our heart-felt joys. If solid happiness...
Seite 127 - Reason thus with life : If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
Seite 263 - Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers, We, who improve his golden hours, By sweet experience know That marriage, rightly understood, Gives to the tender and the good A paradise below!
Seite 192 - I'm estrang'd to guile. Ah me ! my faithful lips impart The genuine language of my heart! When bards extol their patrons high, Perhaps 'tis gold extorts the lie ; Perhaps the poor reward of bread — But who burns incense to the dead?
Seite 155 - Few fear obliquity of mind. Why not adorn the better part? This is a nobler theme for art. For what is form, or what is face, But the soul's index, or its case?
Seite 275 - His hand will smooth my rugged way, And lead me to the realms of day, — To milder skies and brighter plains, Where everlasting pleasure reigns.

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