An Account of the Life and Writings of James Beattie, L.L.D...

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Isaac Riley, 1806 - 559 pages
 

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Page 306 - Man that is born of a woman Is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.
Page 498 - His studies had been so various, that I am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. His acquaintance with books was great; and what he did not immediately know he could at least tell where to find.
Page 306 - My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 543 - Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven, Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X.
Page 14 - Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, Thy charms my only theme ; My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream, Whence! the scared owl on pinions grey Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose.
Page 191 - Reynolds,, who was the intimate and beloved friend of that great man ; the friend whom he declared to be " the most invulnerable man he knew ; whom, if he should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficulty how to abuse.
Page 351 - True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed; Something whose truth convinced at sight we find, That gives us back the image of our mind.
Page 340 - I know not who will go to heaven if Langton does not. Sir, I could almost say, Sit anima mea cum Langtono.
Page 520 - gainst Passion's threatful blast Let steady Reason urge the struggling oar ; Shot through the dreary gloom, the morn at last Gives to thy longing eye the blissful shore. Forget my frailties, thou art also frail ; Forgive my lapses, for thyself may'st fall ; Nor read, unmoved, my artless tender tale, I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all.
Page 79 - See the grisly texture grow, ("Tis of human entrails made,) And the weights, that play below, Each a gasping warrior's head. Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore, Shoot the trembling cords along Sword, that once a Monarch bore, Keep the tissue close and strong.

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