The Boy's Friend: Or The Maxims of the Cheerful Old Man

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John Harris, 1837 - 272 σελίδες

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Σελίδα 186 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Σελίδα 7 - HAPPINESS ! our being's end and aim ! Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content ! whate'er thy name: That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die...
Σελίδα 166 - And through his airy hall the loud misrule Of driving tempest is for ever heard : Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath ; Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost ; Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, With which he now oppresses half the globe.
Σελίδα 29 - The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame ; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend ! whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control Is wisdom's root.
Σελίδα 29 - O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires!
Σελίδα 55 - 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...
Σελίδα 93 - Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measured by my soul : The mind's the standard of the man.
Σελίδα 109 - William, the young man cried, And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone, Now tell me the reason, I pray.
Σελίδα 30 - A THOUSAND miles from land are we, Tossing about on the roaring sea ; From billow to bounding billow cast, Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast : The sails are scattered abroad, like weeds, The strong masts shake, like quivering reeds, The mighty cables, and iron chains, The hull, which all earthly strength disdains, They strain and they crack, and hearts like stone Their natural hard, proud strength disown. Up and down ! Up and down ! From...
Σελίδα 100 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.

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