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The poor silly insect that thoughtlessly plays
Round the flame which is pregnant with fate,
While lur'd by its lustre, is scorched in the blaze,
And feels the fell danger too late,—
To the poet presumptuous, who dares to pourtray
The likeness of charms such as thine,
Must inhale the strong poison that lurks in the lay,
And wound his own heart with the line !
Round the flame which is pregnant with fate,
While lur'd by its lustre, is scorched in the blaze,
And feels the fell danger too late,—
To the poet presumptuous, who dares to pourtray
The likeness of charms such as thine,
Must inhale the strong poison that lurks in the lay,
And wound his own heart with the line !
For the wealth I require is that of the heart,
The smiles of affection are riches to me.
Mrs. Opie.
The smiles of affection are riches to me.
Mrs. Opie.
The tear down childhood's cheek that flows,
Is like the dew drop on the rose;
When next the summer breeze comes by,
And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Scott.
Is like the dew drop on the rose;
When next the summer breeze comes by,
And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Scott.
Give me but the liberty of the press, and I will give to the minister a venal house of peers—I will give him a corrupt and servile house of commons—[ will give him a full swing of the patronage of his office—I will give him the whole host of ministerial influence—I will give him all the power that place can confer upon him, to purchase up submission, and overawe resistance; and yet, armed with the liberty of the press, I will go forth to meet him undismayed; I will attack with that mightier engine, the
