Evenings at home; or, The juvenile budget opened [by J. Aikin and A.L. Barbauld]. corrected and revised by C. Hartley

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Seite 431 - Or stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, And from the palm to draw its freshening wine ! More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours.
Seite 287 - But so it is — one man walks through the world with his eyes open, and another with them shut ; and upon this difference depends all the superiority of knowledge the one acquires above trie other. I have known sailors who had been in all the quarters of the world, and could tell you nothing but the signs of the tippling-houses they frequented in different ports, and the price and quality of the liquor.
Seite 173 - And does not Fame speak of me too ? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band ? Was there ever— but I scorn to boast.
Seite 323 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver white, And cuckoo-buds* of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight...
Seite 173 - Alexander ! I am your captive ; I must hear what you please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my soul is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man.
Seite 281 - I dare say he has not got home yet. Mr. A. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been? W. Oh, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broom-heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the hill, and then down among the green meadows, by the side of the river.
Seite 45 - Upon this, he set down his basket in the road, and began to climb up the tree. He had half ascended, when casting a look at his basket, he saw a dog with his nose in it, ferreting out the piece of kid's flesh. He made all possible speed down, but the dog was too quick for him, and ran off with the meat in his mouth. Robinet looked after him — Well (said he), then I must be content with soup meagre — and no bad thing neither.
Seite 387 - ... times, when war is said to be carried on with so much humanity ; but, indeed, how can it be otherwise ? The art of war is essentially that of destruction, and it is impossible there should be a mild and merciful way of murdering and ruining one's fellowcreatures. Soldiers, as men, are often humane ; but war must ever be cruel. Though Homer has filled his Iliad with the exploits of fighting heroes, yet he makes Jupiter address Mars, the god of War, in terms of the utmost abhorrence: — " Of all...
Seite 90 - midst the desert fruitful fields arise, That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn, Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn. Let India boast her plants, nor envy we The weeping amber or the balmy tree, While by our oaks the precious loads are born, And realms commanded which those trees adorn. Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, Tho...
Seite 80 - I stretch my sceptre over thee, and command thee to retire. Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them presume to wet the feet of me thy royal master. Oswald. (Aside.) I believe the sea will pay very little regard to his royal commands.

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