The British Critic: A New Review, Band 1

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F. and C. Rivington, 1814
 

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Seite 289 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Seite 47 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Seite 44 - When I say, My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint; Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me through visions : So that my soul chooseth strangling, And death rather than my life.
Seite 294 - Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust ! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit ! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on — it honours none you wish to mourn : To mark a friend's remains these stones arise, I never knew but one, and here he lies.
Seite 436 - The Germans in Greek Are sadly to seek ; Not five in five score, But ninety-five more ; All, save only Hermann, And Hermann's a German.
Seite 293 - WHEN some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rest below : When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been...
Seite 545 - Gibbon's Decline and fall, vol. vi. p. 320. ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1. 1 1s done — but yesterday a King ! And arm'd with Kings to strive — And now thou art a nameless thing So abject — yet alive ! Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our Earth with hostile bones ? And can he thus survive ? Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.
Seite 293 - Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth : While man, vain insect ! hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Seite 44 - When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? And I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
Seite 7 - Works done before the grace of Christ, and the Inspiration of his Spirit, are not pleasant to God, forasmuch as they spring not of faith in Jesus Christ...

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