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Seite 66 - Candour, which spares its foes, nor e'er descends With bigot zeal to combat for its friends ; Candour, which loves in see-saw strain to tell Of acting foolishly, but meaning well; Too nice to praise by wholesale or to blame, Convinced that all men's motives are the same ; And finds, with keen discriminating sight, Black's not so black, nor white so very white.
Seite 682 - Being your slave , what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do , till you require.
Seite 615 - But hold some two days' conference with the dead ! From them I should learn somewhat I am sure I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow.
Seite 615 - I'll tell thee a miracle ; I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow : Th' heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery, As the tanned galley-slave is with his oar; Necessity makes me suffer constantly, And custom makes it easy.
Seite 67 - This faded form ! this pallid hue ! This blood my veins is clotting in. My years are many — They were few When first I entered at the U — — DIVERSITY of Gottingen — — NIVERSITY of Gottingen.
Seite 614 - Nature's second sun, Causing a spring of virtues where he shines; And as without the sun, the world's great eye, All colours, beauties, both of Art and Nature, Are given in vain to men; so without Love All beauties bred in women are in vain, All virtues born in men lie buried; For Love informs them as the sun doth colours...
Seite 71 - I'm like a young lady just bringing to bed. If you ask why the llth of June I remember, Much better than April, or May, or November, On that day, my lords, with truth I assure ye, My sainted progenitor set up his brewery ; On that day, in the morn, he began brewing beer; On that day, too...
Seite 67 - So thine own oak, by some fair streamlet's side, Waves its broad arms, and spreads its leafy pride, Towers from the earth, and rearing to the skies Its conscious strength, the tempest's wrath defies. Its ample branches shield the fowls of air, To its cool shade the panting herds repair. — The treacherous current works its noiseless way, — The fibres loosen, and the roots decay ; Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies ; and all That shared its shelter, perish in its fall.