« 上一頁繼續 »
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1728-1774.
REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. Line 7.
And learn the luxury of doing good.*
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view.
Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,
By sports like these are all their cares beguiled;
The sports of children satisfy the child.
But winter lingering chills the lap of May.
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze ;
For all their luxury was doing good.
GARTH. Claremont, Line 148.
CRABBE. Tales of the Hall, Book .
He tried the luxury of doing good.
And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore,
Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore. Line 251.
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies,
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms.
For just experience tells, in every soil,
That those that think must govern those that toil.
Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.
Forced from their homes, a melancholy train. Line 409.
Vain, very vain, my weary search to find
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
* Lord of human kind.--DRYDEN. The Spanish Friar, Act ii. Sc. 1.
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath has made ;*
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,
While resignation gently slopes the way,
And, all his prospects brightening to the last,
His heaven commences ere the world be past. Line 100.
The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.
A man he was to all the country dear,
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were
Qu'un souffle peut détruire, et qu'un souffle a produit.
DE CAUX. (Comparing the world to his hour-glass.) pants for glory finds but short repose;
POPE. Horace. Book . Epistle 1.
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. Line 203.
In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
O Luxury thou cursed by Heaven's decree.
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
Who mixed reason with pleasure, and wisdom with
Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Though equal to all things, for all things unfit;
His conduct still right with his argument wrong.
A flattering painter who made it his care,
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man.
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.
He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack,
For he knew, when he pleased, he could whistle them