The Works of Oliver Goldsmith: The Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith

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Harper & brothers, 1900

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Side 208 - Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where gray-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound And news much older than their ale went round.
Side 216 - And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid Still first to fly where sensual joys invade! Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so; Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well!
Side 209 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear...
Side 211 - And, pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown.
Side 211 - Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe : Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.
Side 207 - And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return — and die at home at last.
Side 155 - Goldsmith's abridgment is better than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius ; and I will venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places of the Roman History, you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying everything he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now writing a Natural History, and will make it as entertaining as a Persian tale.
Side 195 - No man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had.
Side 169 - Goldsmith, to divert the tedious minutes, strutted about, bragging of his dress, and I believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was wonderfully prone to such impressions. "Come, come" (said Garrick), "talk no more of that. You are perhaps the worst— eh, eh.
Side 116 - 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...

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