Lacon: or, Many things in few words, Volume 2

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme&Brown, 1823
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Page 4 - I want a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one: Of such as these I should not care to vaunt, I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan We all have seen him, in the Pantomime Sent to the devil, somewhat ere his time.
Page 99 - And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it ; to this end I formed the following little prayer, which was prefixed to my tables of examination, for daily use.
Page 37 - And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die.
Page 18 - Man's love is of man's life a thing apart ; 'Tis woman's whole existence...
Page 23 - There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion : thus it was, Some plunder'ed, some drank spirits, some sung psalms, The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse harsh waves kept time ; fright cured the qualms Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws : Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, Clamour'd in chorus to the roaring ocean.
Page 121 - Liberty will not descend to a people, a people must raise themselves to liberty ; It is a blessing that must be earned before it can be enjoyed.
Page 13 - Lucretius' irreligion is too strong For early stomachs, to prove wholesome food ; I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong, Although no doubt his real intent was good, For speaking out so plainly in his song, So much indeed as to be downright rude ; And then what proper person can be partial To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial ? XLIV.
Page 10 - I'ma plain man, and in a single station, But Oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-pecked you all...
Page 39 - Alas! the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone...
Page 96 - The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear For twilight converse, arm in arm ; The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear When mirth and music wont to charm. By Cherical's dark wandering streams, Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild, Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams...

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