Autobiography Letters and Literary Remains of Mrs. Piozzi (T

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BiblioBazaar, 1861 - 490 pages
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Page 453 - How happy is the blameless vestal's lot ? The world forgetting, by the world forgot...
Page 111 - Live while you live, the Epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day. Live while you live, the sacred Preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies.
Page 444 - Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth. And time and place are lost...
Page 298 - New sorrow rises as the day returns, A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; Year chases year, decay pursues decay, Still drops some joy from with'ring life away; New forms arise, and...
Page 158 - ... it would be hard to find a man so well entitled to notice by his wit that ever delighted so much in talking of his money.
Page 336 - Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours : Safety consists not in escape From dangers of a frightful shape ; An earthquake may be bid to spare The man that's strangled by a hair. Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread, Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
Page 136 - This poem has yet a grosser fault. With these trifling fictions are mingled the most awful and sacred truths, such as ought never to be polluted with such irreverend combinations.
Page 325 - PENSION [an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country'].
Page 164 - I'll quit my prey, And grant a kind reprieve; In hopes you'll have no more to say But when I call again this way, Well pleased the world will leave.
Page 166 - I know, cries Death, that at the best, I seldom am a welcome guest; But don't be captious, friend, at least; I little thought you'd still be able To stump about your farm and stable; Your years have run to a great length, I wish you joy though of your strength. Hold, says the farmer, not so fast, I have been lame these four years past. And no great wonder...

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