The Vicar of Wakefield: A Tale Supposed to be Written by Himself

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Leach, Shewell, & Sanborn, 1896 - 301 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 201 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Pàgina 12 - Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind : His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand : His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Pàgina 135 - Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree . This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad and bit the man.
Pàgina 134 - Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Pàgina 71 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Pàgina 71 - Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Pàgina 75 - I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. And there, forlorn, despairing, hid, I'll lay me down and die: 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I.
Pàgina 73 - And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep ; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep...
Pàgina 49 - The little republic to which I gave laws, was regulated in the following manner : By sunrise we all assembled in our common apartment, the fire being previously kindled by the servant ; after we had saluted each other with proper ceremony, (for I always thought fit to keep up some mechanical forms of good breeding, without which, freedom ever destroys friendship,) we all bent in gratitude to that Being who gave us another day.
Pàgina 173 - I passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among such of the French as were poor enough to be very merry, for I ever found them sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I approached a peasant's house towards nightfall, I played one of my most merry tunes, and that procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day.

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