The Literary Character

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E. Moxon, 1839 - Authors, English - 388 pages

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Page 359 - ... within protect from harms. He can requite thee; for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses...
Page 3 - my history will not be long : the life that is devoted to knowledge passes silently away, and is very little diversified by events. To talk in public, to think in solitude, to read and to hear, to inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar. He wanders about the world without pomp or terror, and is neither known nor valued but by men like himself.
Page 8 - The wisdom of a learned man cometh by opportunity of leisure: and he that hath little business shall become wise. How can he get wisdom that holdeth the plough, and that glorieth in the goad, that driveth oxen, and is occupied in their labours, and whose talk is of bullocks?
Page 290 - Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights, How oft unwearied have we spent the nights, Till the Ledaean stars, so famed for love, Wonder'd at us from above! We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine ; But search of deep Philosophy, Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry, Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine.
Page 265 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Page 182 - He arose, fresh as the morning, to his task : the silence of the night invited him to pursue it ; and he can truly say, that food and rest were not preferred before it. Every psalm improved infinitely upon his acquaintance with it, and no one gave him uneasiness but the last ; for then he grieved that his work was done.
Page 277 - Methinks I hear in accents low The sportive, kind reply : Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? A solitary fly ! Thy joys no glittering female meets, No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, No painted plumage to display : On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — We frolic, while 'tis May.
Page 216 - In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a Sigh I wish it mine ; When He can in one Couplet fix More Sense than I can do in six; It gives me such a jealous Fit, I cry "Pox take him and his Wit!
Page 269 - ... is still surely a more honourable, a more useful, and in general even a more profitable employment than that other of writing for a bookseller, to which the art of printing has given occasion.
Page 149 - Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.

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