Works of Washington Irving: Goldsmith

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J. B. Lippincott & Company, 1870

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Page 195 - Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my...
Page 165 - A man he was to all the country dear. And passing rich with forty pounds a year. Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place.
Page 16 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Page 196 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Page 16 - More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train...
Page 255 - Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: When they talked of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.
Page 103 - The wretch, condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies ; And every pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rise. Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way ; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.
Page 177 - Whether, indeed, we take him as a poet, — as a comick writer, — or as an historian, he stands in the first class." BOSWELL. "An historian! My dear Sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the Roman History with the works of other historians of this age?
Page 23 - Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail; Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; Or press the bashful stranger to...
Page 23 - Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.

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