The Lady's Pocket Library

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published, 1809 - 330 pages
 

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Page 63 - He made him ride on the high places of the earth, That he might eat the increase of the fields; And he made him to suck honey out of the rock, And oil out of the flinty rock...
Page 183 - Fresh pleasure only: for the attentive mind By this harmonious action on her powers Becomes herself harmonious: wont so oft In outward things to meditate the charm Of sacred order, soon she seeks at home To find a kindred order, to exert Within herself this elegance of love, This fair inspir'd delight: her temper'd powers Refine at length, and every passion wears A chaster, milder, more attractive mien.
Page 52 - So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found, Among the faithless faithful only he; Among innumerable false unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, Though single.
Page 123 - Be even cautious in displaying your good sense. It will be thought you assume a superiority over the rest of the company. — But if you happen to have any learning, keep it a profound secret...
Page 99 - The mind is but a barren soil; a soil which is soon exhausted, and will produce no crop, or only one, unless it be continually fertilized and enriched with foreign matter.
Page 242 - which has the promise of this life, " as well as of that which is to come.
Page 50 - The thing which hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that which is done, is that which shall be done ; and there is no new thing under the sun.
Page 12 - ... in order to free the state from such unserviceable citizens. He frequently had men racked before him while he sat at table, ironically pitying their misfortunes, and blaming their executioner. And as the height of insane cruelty, he once expressed the wish " that all the Roman people had but one neck, that he might dispatch them at a single blow.
Page 51 - For dignity composed and high exploit: But all was false and hollow ; though his tongue Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels...
Page 183 - Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings ; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting Sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreproved.

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