Curiosities of Literature

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G. Routledge and Sons, 1893 - 582 pages
 

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Page 32 - It was at Rome, on the 15th of October 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter,* that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind.
Page 423 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Page 240 - I saw the world, and yet I was not seen; My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun; And now I live, and now my life is done!
Page 216 - This chief transcends his father's fame : While pleased amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy.' He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.
Page 107 - at the Mount of St Mary's, in the stony stage where I now stand, I have brought you some fine biscuits, baked in the oven of charity, carefully conserved for the chickens of the church, the sparrows of the spirit, and the sweet swallows of salvation.
Page 423 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Page 423 - Cowards fear to die ; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.
Page 210 - Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace.
Page 216 - Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor ^sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt...
Page 91 - Modeste en ma couleur, modeste en mon séjour. Franche d'ambition, je me cache sous l'herbe, Mais si sur votre front, je puis me voir un jour, La plus humble des fleurs sera la plus superbe.

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