The Traveller, the Deserted Village, and Other PoemsJ. Sharpe, 1822 - 154 pages |
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... HERMIT deserves to be particularized . It was first printed in the year 1765 ; in which year Dr. Percy , afterwards Bishop of Dromore , published his elegant collection , entitled " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry . " That work ...
... HERMIT deserves to be particularized . It was first printed in the year 1765 ; in which year Dr. Percy , afterwards Bishop of Dromore , published his elegant collection , entitled " Reliques of Ancient English Poetry . " That work ...
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Oliver Goldsmith. CONTENTS . Page THE Traveller 13 The Deserted Village 41 The Hermit The Haunch of Venison , a poetical Epistle .. Retaliation 67 81 89 Postscript and Supplement . 99 The Double Transformation 104 The Logicians refuted ...
Oliver Goldsmith. CONTENTS . Page THE Traveller 13 The Deserted Village 41 The Hermit The Haunch of Venison , a poetical Epistle .. Retaliation 67 81 89 Postscript and Supplement . 99 The Double Transformation 104 The Logicians refuted ...
Page 66
... The sad historian of the pensive plain . Jug 1,1822 . THE HERMIT . A Ballad . FIRST PRINTED IN THE. Drawn by Richard Westall R.A. Engraved by William Finden Published by John Sharpe Piccadilly . AUG . L , 1822 . THE DESERTED VILLAGE .
... The sad historian of the pensive plain . Jug 1,1822 . THE HERMIT . A Ballad . FIRST PRINTED IN THE. Drawn by Richard Westall R.A. Engraved by William Finden Published by John Sharpe Piccadilly . AUG . L , 1822 . THE DESERTED VILLAGE .
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Oliver Goldsmith. THE HERMIT . A Ballad . FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1765 . ΤΟ The Printer of the St. James's Chronicle . JUNE.
Oliver Goldsmith. THE HERMIT . A Ballad . FIRST PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1765 . ΤΟ The Printer of the St. James's Chronicle . JUNE.
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... accuses me of having taken a ballad , I published some time ago , from one by the ingenious Mr. Percy . I do not " The Friar of Orders Gray . " think there is any great resemblance between the two pieces D3 The Hermit.
... accuses me of having taken a ballad , I published some time ago , from one by the ingenious Mr. Percy . I do not " The Friar of Orders Gray . " think there is any great resemblance between the two pieces D3 The Hermit.
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The Traveller, the Deserted Village, and Other Poems Oliver Goldsmith Affichage du livre entier - 1822 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Æsop Amidst ballad bards beauty Bishop of Dromore bless'd bliss bookseller bowers breast brother BULKLEY Burke charms cheerful climes confess'd Covent Garden cried dance David Garrick dear DESERTED VILLAGE DRAWN BY RICHARD e'en Epilogue eyes fame flies follow'd fond Garrick genius gentle heart heaven hermit honest honour JOHN SHARPE Johnson keep a corner land Lishoy lord luxury mind mirth MISS CATLEY native ne'er never night o'er OLIVER GOLDSMITH pass'd passion pasty patriot pensive PICCADILLY pity pleased pleasure poem poet poet's poor praise pride PUBLISHED BY JOHN racter Richard Westall rise round scene shore sigh sinks Sir Joshua Reynolds skies smiling sorrow soul spread STOOPS TO CONQUER stranger swain sweet SWEET AUBURN tale thee There's thine thou toil TRAVELLER turn twas venison VICAR OF WAKEFIELD wealth Whitefoord wish'd wretch
Fréquemment cités
Page 48 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 47 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please — How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Page 65 - 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...
Page 48 - The dancing pair that simply sought renown By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
Page 64 - Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep. The good old sire, the first prepared to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.
Page 23 - But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care; Impell'd with steps unceasing to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view : That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.
Page 32 - To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore.
Page 56 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Page 65 - Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes placed above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
Page 96 - Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back.