ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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Apicius appear arms bard beauty behold blood boast breast breath charms Chryseis Churchill court crown dare death divine dreadful Duke E'en Earl eyes fair fame fate fear fix'd foes fond fools frog genius give gods grace grave grove hand hath head heart Heaven Hesiod honour Horace Walpole House of Lords Iliad Jove king letter live Lord Lord Bute Lord Clive Lord Mansfield lov'd maid mighty mind Muse nature ne'er never North Briton numbers nymph o'er Parnell passion peace plain pleasure poem poet Pope praise pride prince rage reign rise round sacred scorn seem'd shade shame shine sing sire smile song soul stand sweet thee thine Thomas Parnell thou thought thousand throne turn'd Twas University of Oxford verse virtue whilst Wilkes youth
الصفحة 202 - God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; His country next; and next all human race...
الصفحة 315 - Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
الصفحة 122 - I hear a voice, you cannot hear, " Which says, I must not stay; " I see a hand, you cannot see,
الصفحة 120 - Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong, Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song : There patient show'd us the wise course to steer, A candid censor, and a friend severe ; There taught us how to live ; and (oh ! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
الصفحة 205 - But when contending chiefs blockade the throne, Contracting regal power to stretch their own ; When I behold a factious band agree To call it freedom when themselves are free ; Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw, Laws grind the poor^ and rich men rule the law...
الصفحة 8 - I assured him that I did not at all take it ill of Mr. Tickell that he was going to publish his translation; that he certainly had as much right to translate any author as myself; and that publishing both was entering on a fair stage.
الصفحة 120 - O'er my dim eyeballs glance- the sudden tears ! How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair, Thy sloping walks and unpolluted air ! ' How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees, Thy noontide shadow and thy evening breeze ! His image thy forsaken bowers restore ; Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ; No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd, Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade.
الصفحة 118 - To strew fresh laurels, let the task be mine, A frequent pilgrim, at thy sacred shrine ; Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan, And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone.