The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe: The library. The village. The newspaper. The parish register. The birth of flattery. Reflections. Sir Eustace Grey. The hall of justice. Woman. Miscellaneous poems
John Murray, 1840
Aldborough antè appear beauty behold believing band blest bosom breast Burke charms Crabbe Crabbe's dead death delight divine Doctor Johnson dread dream Duke of Rutland E'en evil fair fame fancy fate favour fears feel fled foes Folly genius gentle GEORGE CRABBE give grace grief happy heart honour hope kind labour live look Lope de Vega Lord Holland Lord Robert Manners Lord Thurlow merit mind moral Muse Muston never numbers nymphs o'er pain Parish passions peace pleasure poem poet poor praise pride race rage rest round rustic scenes scorn shame sighs silent sing slave smile sorrow soul spirit Stephen Duck swain taste tears thee thine thou thought tribe truth verse vex'd vice vile bands Village virtue wretched youth
Page 35 - For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are ; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
Page 47 - It was from out the rind of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and evil, as two twins cleaving together, leaped forth into the world. And perhaps this is that doom which Adam fell into of knowing good and evil, that is to say, of knowing good by evil.
Page 35 - And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book : who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye.
Page 42 - And God saw their works, that they turned from their evil way; and God repented of the evil that he had said that he would do unto them; and he did it not.
Page 86 - Ah! no; a shepherd of a different stock, And far unlike him, feeds this little flock: A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task As much as God or man can fairly ask ; The rest he gives to loves and labours light, To fields the morning, and to feasts the night; None better...
Page 47 - He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian.
Page 77 - Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land and rob the blighted rye : There Thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; There Poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil, There the blue Bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy Mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the Charlock throws a shade, And clasping Tares cling round the sickly blade ; With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, And a...
Page 74 - On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the Golden Age again, Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song? From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way? Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains: They boast their peasants...
Page 35 - We should be wary therefore what persecution we raise against the living labours of public men, how we spill that seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books ; since we see a kind of homicide may be thus committed, sometimes a martyrdom, and, if it extend to the whole impression, a kind of massacre, whereof the execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental life, but strikes at that ethereal and fifth essence, the breath of reason itself, slays an immortality rather than a life.
Page 84 - The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot and the madman gay. Here too the sick their final doom receive, Here brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve, Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow, Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below...