The Stranger: Or, The New Man of Feeling

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Albion Press ; printed by and for J. Cundee and M. Jones, 1806 - 138 pages
 

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Page 93 - War in each breast and freedom on each brow ; How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies where Britain courts the western spring ; Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride, And brighter streams than famed Hydaspes glide.
Page 71 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot, the lot of all; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed; No costly lord, the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal: But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 76 - Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidst the store should thankless pride repine ? Say, should the philosophic mind disdain That good which makes each humbler bosom vain ? Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, These little things are great to little man ; And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Page 8 - And shepherd girls shall own thee for their queen. With thee be Chastity, of all afraid, Distrusting all ; — a wise suspicious maid; — But man the most : — not more the mountain doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe. Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew ; A silken veil conceals her from the view.
Page 113 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves 'plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Page 86 - When the dew wets its leaves, unstained and pure As is the lily or the mountain snow. The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, Still on the ground dejected, darting all Their humid beams into the blooming flowers ; Or when the mournful tale her mother told Of what her faithless fortune promised once Thrilled in her thought, they, like the dewy star Of evening, shone in tears.
Page 93 - Extremes are only in the master's mind ! Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by ; Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashion'd fresh from Nature's hand, Fierce in their native hardiness of soul, True to imagin'd right, above control, While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan, And learns to venerate himself as man.
Page 66 - Seen Opulence, her grandeur to maintain, Lead stern Depopulation in her train, And over fields where scatter'd hamlets rose, In barren solitary pomp repose ? Have we not seen, at pleasure's lordly call, The smiling...
Page 77 - Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round ; Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale ; Ye bending swains, that dress the flowery vale ; For me your tributary stores combine : Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine!
Page 44 - IT WAS a high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that the good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished; but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired.

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