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Page 161 - But where to find that happiest spot below Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease: The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.
Page 185 - Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
Page 183 - And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms — a garden and a grave ! Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And even the bare-worn common is denied.
Page 178 - She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread...
Page 181 - Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Page 180 - Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest ; To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven, As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm ; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, • Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Page 179 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side : But in his duty prompt at every call, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all...
Page 200 - But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies; Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.
Page 164 - Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, And drags the struggling savage into day. At night returning, every labour sped, He sits him down the monarch of a shed...
Page 182 - Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth Has robb'd the neighbouring fields of half their growth ; His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green...