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Autolycus beautiful biblical Bishop Booksellers bookstall bought British called century chapter close collection comes copy course covers critic Cromwell Crusca death delight doubt earlier early edition England English fair familiar father feeling follow French give given glance gone hand happy interest John Johnson known late less letters lighted lines literary literature lives London look man's matter Moral Mortimer nature never original owners passed perhaps person picked pieces pirate pleasure poems poet Political poor possessed present Printed published purchase readers reason rest rich Rochester says shilling Songs Southey story strange Street sure tell things Thomas thought tion to-day treasure true turn verse volume whole wonderful writing written wrote young
Page 133 - I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Page 124 - He who tells me that there are defects in a new work, tells me nothing which I should not have taken for granted without his information. But he who points out and elucidates the beauties of an original work, does indeed give me interesting information, such as experience would not have authorized me in anticipating.
Page 106 - LET dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise ; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
Page 105 - With reverence meet their parents' word, And with delight obey. Have you not heard what dreadful plagues Are threaten'd by the Lord, To him that breaks his father's law, Or mocks his mother's word ? What heavy guilt upon him lies ! How cursed is his name ! The ravens shall pick out his eyes, And eagles eat the same.
Page 163 - Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit — Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short — When we are gone, Let them sing on, Round the old tree.
Page 106 - How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower!
Page 108 - Pity the sorrows of a poor old man ! Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
Page 117 - I trust that He will graciously hear the prayers of your dear parents, and be with you as the spirit of health and growth, in body and in mind.
Page 111 - No part of my life has been totally unattended with pleasure, except the eight or nine months I passed in Gray's Inn. The office (for so the dungeon where I wrote was called) was so dark, that on cloudy days we were obliged to burn candle. I worked like a galley slave from five in the morning till eight or nine at night, and sometimes all night long.