The land we live in, a pictorial and literary sketch-book of the British empire, Volúmenes 3-4

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Página 158 - Life is a jest, and all things show it, I thought so once, but now I know it, with what more you may think proper.
Página 43 - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. Thro...
Página 160 - When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind.
Página 158 - What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones ? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What needst thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Página 160 - WHEN I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey : where the gloominess of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness that is not disagreeable.
Página 167 - The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray — Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but th' impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.
Página 160 - Dr. Busby ! a great man ! he whipped my grandfather ; a very great man ! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a blockhead : a very great man !' " We were immediately conducted into the little chapel on the right hand.
Página 166 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest-? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love...
Página 166 - Kneller, by Heaven, and not a master taught, Whose art was nature, and whose pictures thought ; Now for two ages, having snatch'd from fate Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was great, Lies crown'd with Princes' honours, Poets' lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise.
Página 158 - Joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the Epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of it ; but he would never consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster Abbey, with an English inscription.

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