The British Essayists, Band 40

Alexander Chalmers
J. Johnson, 1807

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Seite 133 - Oh woman ! lovely woman ! Nature made thee To temper man : we had been brutes without you ! Angels are painted fair to look like you : There's in you all, that we believe of" heaven ; Amazing brightness, purity and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Seite 111 - Away! Who is so patient of this impious world That he can check his spirit, or rein his tongue? Or who hath such a dead, unfeeling sense, That Heaven's horrid thunders cannot wake? To see the earth, cracked with the weight of sin, Hell gaping under us, and o'er our heads Black, ravenous ruin, with her sail-stretched wings, Ready to sink us down, and cover us.
Seite 113 - But your fine elegant rascal, that can rise, And stoop, almost together, like an arrow; Shoot through the air as nimbly as a star; Turn short as doth a swallow; and be here, And there, and here, and yonder, all at once; Present to any humour, all occasion; And change a visor, swifter than a thought!
Seite 155 - Nay, my good friend, but hear me, I confess Man is the child of sorrow, and this world, In which we breathe, hath cares enough to plague us, But it hath means withal to soothe these cares, And he, who meditates on other's woes, Shall in that meditation lose his own : Call, then, the tragic poet to your aid.
Seite 113 - Almost All the wise world is little else, in nature, But parasites or sub-parasites. And yet I mean not those that have your bare town-art...
Seite 111 - I'll strip the ragged follies of the time Naked as at their birth . . . and with a whip of steel Print wounding lashes in their iron ribs.
Seite 10 - Madam, your most obedient ' And most humble servant, LIONEL MORTIMER/ Every hope being extinguished by the receipt of" this letter, the disconsolate Rachel became henceforth one of the most miserable of human beings : after venting a torrent of rage against her brother, she turned her back upon his house for ever, and undetermined where to fix, whilst at intervals she can scarce be said to be in possession of her senses,.
Seite 161 - That every thing contains within itself The seeds and sources of its own corruption : The cankering rust corrodes the brightest steel: The moth frets out your garment, and the worm Eats its slow way into the solid oak ; But Envy, of all evil things the worst, The same to-day, to-morrow, and for ever. Saps and consumes the heart in which it lurks.
Seite 124 - By the sea's margin, on the watery strand, Thy monument, Themistocles, shall stand : By this directed to thy native shore, The merchant shall convey his freighted store ; And when our fleets are summoned to the fight, Athens shall conquer with thy tomb in sight.

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