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England, with all thy faults, I love thee still,
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Cowper's Task, b. 2.
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou art,
Fails for the craving hunger of the state,
Ibid, b. 5.
Yet much is talk'd of bliss; it is the art
Young's Revenge, a. 2.
Base envy withers at another's joy,
Who can in reason then or right assume
Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 5.
See the descending sun, Scatt'ring his beams about him as he sinks, And gilded heaven above, and seas beneath, With paint, no mortal pencil can express.
This as I guess should be th' appointed time:
Joanna Baillie's Ethwald, pt. 2, a. 5, s. 3.
Declin'd was hasting now, with prone career
Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 4.
In the western sky, the downward sun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam.
The sun has lost his rage: his downward orb
Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven,
Now the soft hour
Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves
The harmony to others. Thomson's Seasons-Summer.
Cowper's Task, b. 4.
See they suffer death;
But in their deaths remember they are men:
Strain not the laws, to make their tortures grievous.
Slave, do thine office!
Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would
Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as my curse! Strike-and but once!
Byron's Doge of Venice, a. 5, s. 3.
Yes, yes! from out the herd, like a mark'd deer,
Joanna Baillie's Ethwald, a. 5, s. 1.
Ah! you never yet
Were far away from Venice, never saw
Seem'd ploughing deep into your heart; you never
Of them and theirs, awoke and found them not.
O unexpected stroke, worse than of death!
That must be mortal to us both.
Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 11.
Some natural tears they dropt, but wip'd them soon;
Unhappy he who from the first of joys,
Ibid. b. 12.
Amid this world of death. Day after day,
A mournful eye, and down his dying heart
And the bark sets sail;
And he is gone from all he loves for ever!
'Tis war that forms the prince: 'Tis hardship, toil; 'Tis sleepless nights, and never-resting days; 'Tis pain, 'tis danger, 'tis affronted death; 'Tis equal fate for all, and changing fortune; That rear the mind to glory, that inspire The noblest virtues, and the gentlest manners.
'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours;
Young's Night Thoughts, n. 2.
Much had he read,
Much more had seen: he studied from the life,
And in th' original perus'd mankind.
Armstrong's Art of Preserving Health, b. 4.
We sacrifice to dress, till household joys
And comforts cease.
Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean.
Puts out our fires,
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
Cowper's Task, b. 2.
Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds
Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price