The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe: Tales of the hall

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John Murray, 1834

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Strona 163 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Strona 97 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Strona 221 - A credulous father, and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms, That he suspects none, on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy ! — I see the business.
Strona 97 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all 'Guilty! guilty!
Strona 22 - ... around, And what is seen is all on fairy ground ; Again they sicken, and on every view Cast their own dull and melancholy hue ; Or, if absorb'd by their peculiar cares, The vacant eye on viewless matter glares, Our feelings still upon our views attend, And their own natures to the objects lend ; Sorrow and joy are in their influence sure., Long as the passion reigns th...
Strona 3 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Strona 163 - My wits begin to turn. — Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy ? Art cold ? I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious.
Strona 199 - And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Strona 118 - Oh ! Conscience ! Conscience ! man's most faithful friend, Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend ; But if he will thy friendly checks forego, Thou art, oh ! woe for me, his deadliest foe !
Strona 167 - Almighty gods! if all we mortals want, If all we can require, be yours to grant; Make this fair statue mine (he would have said, But changed his words for shame; and only pray'd), Give me the likeness of my ivory maid.

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