The Miscellaneous Works of Oliver Goldsmith: Including a Variety of Pieces Now First Collected, Volum 4

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Side 68 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind. And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind, These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
Side 64 - ... sleights of art and feats of strength went round ; And still as each repeated pleasure tired, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; The dancing pair that simply...
Side 418 - With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. ii. 1. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace.
Side 72 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school.
Side 71 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven : As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm.
Side 69 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden -flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Side 74 - Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train, To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art : Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.
Side 67 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Side 69 - To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; She only left of all the harmless train, The sad historian of the pensive plain.
Side 64 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labor free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.

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