The Miscellaneous Works of Oliver Goldsmith: In Five Volumes..

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Allan Bell and Company, ... New York: J.K. Herrick., 1837

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Page liv - How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
Page 95 - Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad and bit the man.
Page 42 - Alas ! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they. "And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?
Page lxvi - Johnson (his antipathy to the Scotch beginning to rise): "I have not read Hume; but, doubtless, Goldsmith's History is better than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of Dalrymple.
Page xcii - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door: The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...
Page 43 - Could nought of purity display To emulate his mind. The dew, the blossom on the tree, With charms inconstant shine ; Their charms were his, but, woe to me ! Their constancy was mine.
Page 40 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Page lxxxviii - Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
Page iii - Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd, fondly turns to thee: Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain...
Page cii - Dr. Goldsmith has a new comedy in rehearsal at Covent garden, to which the Manager predicts ill success. I hope he will be mistaken. I think it deserves a very kind reception.

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