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Man wants but little here below.
Nor wants that little long.*
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep-
And leaves the wretch to weep?
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Lines on Edmund Burke.
* The same idea, conveyed in nearly the same words, will be found in Young's Night Thoughts.— Night IV. See Quotations from Young.
Here lies David Garrick-describe me who can,
Lines on Garrick.
Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,
Lines on Sir Joshua Reynolds.
A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
Description of an Author's Bed-chamber.
This day beyond its term my fate extends,
A Prologue spoken by the Poet Laberius. Translated
by Goldsmith from the Latin of Macrobius.
The wretch, condemn’d with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies ;
The Captivity, an Oratorio. Act 11.
There's no love lost between us.
She Stoops to Conquer. Act iv.
Measures, not men, have always been my mark.
. The Good Natured Man. Act II.
Lines I, 2.
The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Ibid. Lines 233-236
Ages elaps'd ere Homer's lamp appear'd,
Ibid. Lines 556-559.
Adapted from Dryden. See Quotations from Dryden. Lines under a Portrait of Milton.
God made the country, and man made the town.
The Task. The Sofa. Line 749.
Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,*
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, +
Ibid. Lines 206-209.
There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Lines 285, 286.
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
* A similar aspiration will be found in Lord Byron's “ Childe Harold,” canto 4, stanza 177–
“Oh! that the desert were my dwelling place !"
Churchill. The Farewell. Lines 27, 28.