The Lives of the Most Eminent Persons Who Have Flourished in Great Britain and Ireland

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Georg Olms Verlag

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Contents

289
289
COURTEN William Naturaliſt and Collector
334
Cox Richard Prelate
396
414 CRAIG William Divine
414
441 CRICHTON James the Admirable
441
527 CROMWELL Richard Protector
527
CROMWELL Henry Lord Lieutenant of Ireland
538
APPENDIX
573
CRUDEN Alexander Author of a Concordance to the Bible 1701
583
Copyright

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Page 32 - He threw his blood-stained sword, in thunder, down ; And with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe! And, ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum, with furious heat...
Page 31 - Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own'd his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings.
Page 32 - O nymph endear'd, Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native simple heart, Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art? Arise, as in that elder time, Warm...
Page 32 - Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Page 30 - On whom that ravening brood of Fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait : Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee ? EPODE. In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Muse addrest her infant tongue ; The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung.
Page 32 - Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head.
Page 265 - How should I love the pretty creatures, While round my knees they fondly clung ; To see them look their mother's features, To hear them lisp their mother's tongue. And when with envy, time transported, Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys.
Page 81 - And terror on my aching sight; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a dullness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes.
Page 79 - His scenes exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion : his personages are a kind of intellectual gladiators ; every sentence is to ward or strike ; the contest of smartness is never intermitted ; his wit is a meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations.
Page 284 - ... fourthly, they will believe any thing at all, provided they are under no obligation to believe it...

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