Oliver Goldsmith ( 10 of 116 )
I hate the French because they are all slaves and wear wooden
shoes.
I hate the French because they are all slaves and wear wooden
shoes.
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.
Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such
We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much;
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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.
The canvas glow'd beyond ev'n nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
The canvas glow'd beyond ev'n nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
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Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
Till his relish grown callous, almost to displease,
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.
To what happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit?
To what happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit?
And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.
And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madame Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word--
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Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madame Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word--
From those who spoke her praise.
They shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam
whar the lion roareth and the Wang read more
They shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam
whar the lion roareth and the Wang Doodle mourneth for its first
born--ah!
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
