The London readers. First (-Sixth) reader

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الصفحة 281 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door: The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose...
الصفحة 283 - O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,* More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
الصفحة 244 - No more shall nation against nation rise, Nor ardent warriors meet, with hateful eyes ; Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er ; The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more; But useless lances into scythes shall bend, And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
الصفحة 281 - And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew. That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye...
الصفحة 286 - Pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
الصفحة 275 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war Might never reach me more...
الصفحة 282 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
الصفحة 28 - There was no trace by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted about for many months. Clusters of shell-fish had fastened about it, and long seaweeds flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the crew?
الصفحة 247 - And the dolphins bared their backs of gold; And never was heard such an outcry wild As welcomed to life the ocean-child!
الصفحة 285 - Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not...

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