ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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الصفحة 1 - Still, where rosy pleasure leads, See a kindred grief pursue ; Behind the steps that misery treads, Approaching comfort view ; The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe ; And blended form, with artful strife, The strength and harmony of life.
الصفحة 283 - Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring, No endless night, yet not eternal day; The saddest birds a season find to sing, The roughest storm a calm may soon allay: Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.
الصفحة 1 - Tis Man alone that joy descries With forward and reverted eyes. Smiles on past Misfortune's brow Soft Reflection's hand can trace, And o'er the cheek of Sorrow throw A melancholy grace...
الصفحة 192 - AH me! full sorely is my heart forlorn, To think how modest worth neglected lies! While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone, as pride and pomp disguise; Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize!
الصفحة 128 - Ah! what avail the largest gifts of heaven, " When drooping health and spirits go amiss? " How tasteless then whatever can be given! " Health is the vital principle of bliss,
الصفحة 283 - The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb ; Her tides have equal times to come and go ; Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web ; No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
الصفحة 72 - MILTON. 0, when we swallow down Intoxicating wine, we drink damnation ; Naked we stand, the sport of mocking fiends, Who grin to see our nobler nature vanquished, Subdued to beasts.
الصفحة 99 - O human life ! how mutable, how vain ! How thy wide sorrows circumscribe thy joy — A sunny island in a stormy main, A spot of azure in a cloudy sky...
الصفحة 218 - ... they not to save thy life have done? The dumb man would have spoke, and lame man would have run. " Let me, O let me near some fountain lie, That through the rock heaves up his sandy head, Or let me dwell upon some mountain high, Whose hollow root and baser parts are spread On fleeting waters, in his bowels bred, That I their streams, and they my tears may feed : Or, clothed in some hermit's ragged weed, Spend all my days in weeping for this cnrsed de«d.