Family Portraits: Or, Descendents of Trelawney

G. Virtue, 1824 - 694 pages

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Page 212 - These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again.
Page 3 - Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
Page 584 - Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance ?) Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet may dance. Hard is his lot that, here by Fortune plac'd, Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste ; With every meteor of caprice must play, And chase the new-blown bubbles of the day. Ah ! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice ; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Page 211 - FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. 'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh : Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye. Are in that word — Farewell ! — Farewell...
Page 654 - One is his printer in disguise, and keeps His press in a hollow tree, where to conceal him, He works by glow-worm light, the moon's too open. The other zealous rag is the compositor, Who in an angle where the ants inhabit, (The emblems of his labours), will sit curled Whole days and nights, and work his eyes out for him.
Page 499 - None are supinely good : thro' care and pain, And various arts, the steep ascent we gain. This is the scene of combat, not of rest, . Man's is laborious happiness at best ; On this side death his dangers never cease, His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace.
Page 610 - I did but chide in jest : the best loves use it Sometimes ; it sets an edge upon affection. When we invite our best friends to a feast, Tis not all sweetmeats that we set before...
Page 334 - THE ENCHANTMENT I DID but look and love awhile, 'Twas but for one half-hour; Then to resist I had no will, And now I have no power. To sigh and wish is all my ease; Sighs which do heat impart Enough to melt the coldest ice, Yet cannot warm your heart. O would your pity give my heart One corner of your breast, 'Twould learn of yours the winning art, And quickly steal the rest.
Page 561 - Woman ! blest partner of our joys and woes ! Even in the darkest hour of earthly ill, Untarnished yet thy fond affection glows, Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill...
Page 79 - Are poisoned baits, hung upon golden hooks : When fools do swim in wealth, her Cynthian beams Will wantonly dance on the silver streams ; But when this squint-eyed age sees Virtue poor, And by a little spark sits shivering, Begging at all, relieved at no man's door, She smiles on her, as the sun shines on fire, To kill that little heat...

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