The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest. And read their history in a nation's eyes. Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, Along the cool sequestered vale of life, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. And many a holy text around she strews, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind. E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown; Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere. He gave to misery, (all he had) a tear. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise. Too On his own Character. poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune; He had not the method of making a fortune. To Mr. West. 3d Series. Letter iv. Now as the Paradisaical pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon. Line 308. Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage. Line 317. From Marlborough's eyes the tears of dotage flow, And Swift expires, a driveller and a show. Line 346. Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate. London. Line 166. Of all the griefs that harass the distressed, Line 176. This mournful truth is everywhere confessed, Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller. How small, of all that human hearts endure, Our own felicity we make or find. With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy. · Line added to Goldsmith's Deserted Village. Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay. From Dr. Madden's "Boulter's Monument." Supposed to have been inserted by Dr. Johnson. 1745. Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.* Rasselas. Chapter i. Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. Epitaph on Robert Levett. In Misery's darkest cavern known, Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan, Epitaph on Claudius Phillips, the Musician. *Words are women, deeds are men. Jacula Prudentum. HERBERT. Epitaph on Goldsmith. A Poet, Naturalist, and Historian, Who left scarcely any style of writing untouched, Boswell's Life of Johnson. Chapter xlix. Hell is paved with good intentions.† Chapter lxxx. Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat. Johnsoniana. Piozzi 30. If the man who turnips cries Piozzi 39. A good hater. *"Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit." He adorns whatever he attempts. Eulogy on Cicero. FENELON. Hell is full of good meanings and wishings. Jacula Prudentum. GEORGE HERBERT. |