Epistles on several occasions. Tales. Eclogues. Miscellanies. Dione, a pastoral tragedyH. Lintot, J. and R. Tonson and S. Draper, 1745 |
Между кориците на книгата
Резултати 1 - 5 от 85.
Страница 9
... fometimes hammer'd out a line , Without connection as without defign . One morn upon the Princess this I writ , An Epigram that boasts more truth than wit . B 5 The The pomp of titles eafy faith might shake , She EPISTLES . 9.
... fometimes hammer'd out a line , Without connection as without defign . One morn upon the Princess this I writ , An Epigram that boasts more truth than wit . B 5 The The pomp of titles eafy faith might shake , She EPISTLES . 9.
Страница 10
John Gay. The pomp of titles eafy faith might shake , She fcern'd an empire for religion's fake : For this , on earth , the British crown.was giv'n , And an immortal crown decreed in heav'n . Again , while GEORGE's virtues rais'd my ...
John Gay. The pomp of titles eafy faith might shake , She fcern'd an empire for religion's fake : For this , on earth , the British crown.was giv'n , And an immortal crown decreed in heav'n . Again , while GEORGE's virtues rais'd my ...
Страница 24
... She pawns her perfon for the sharper's loan . Yet who with juftice can the fair upbraid , Whofe debts of honour are fo duly paid ? But let me not forget the Toilette's cares , Where art each morn the languid cheek repairs : This red's ...
... She pawns her perfon for the sharper's loan . Yet who with juftice can the fair upbraid , Whofe debts of honour are fo duly paid ? But let me not forget the Toilette's cares , Where art each morn the languid cheek repairs : This red's ...
Страница 28
... She fins for Scarfs , clock'd ftockings , knots , and shoes . This next , with fober gate and serious leer , Wearies her knees with morn and ev'ning prayer ; She fcorns th ' ignoble love of feeble pages , But with three Abbots in one ...
... She fins for Scarfs , clock'd ftockings , knots , and shoes . This next , with fober gate and serious leer , Wearies her knees with morn and ev'ning prayer ; She fcorns th ' ignoble love of feeble pages , But with three Abbots in one ...
Страница 31
... it , France in fcience fhone ; We too , I own , without fuch aids may chance In ignorance and pride to rival France . But let me not forget Corneille , Racine , Boileau's strong fense and Moliere's hum'rous Scene . Let Cambray's name be ...
... it , France in fcience fhone ; We too , I own , without fuch aids may chance In ignorance and pride to rival France . But let me not forget Corneille , Racine , Boileau's strong fense and Moliere's hum'rous Scene . Let Cambray's name be ...
Други издания - Преглед на всички
Често срещани думи и фрази
Afide Alexis beauty behold betray'd bluſh boaſt bofom boſom breaſt breath canft ceaſe charms cheek Chloe CLEANTHES cloſe Daphnis defcend deſpair diftant DIONE Dione's DORIS dy'd ECLOGUE ev'ry Evander eyes fair faithlefs falſe fame fate fcorn fecret feek fhade fhall fhepherd fighs filver fincere firſt flain flame fleep flies flow tears foft fome fong Fops forrow foul friendſhip ftill ftream fuch fudden fwain fylvan grace grove guife hand hath hear heart Heav'n houſe LAURA lips loft lover LYCIDAS maid MELANTHE Menalcas mourn muft muſt ne'er night nymph o'er paffion pafs PARTHENIA penfive perjur'd plain pleaſure praiſe pride profe purſue reſt rife rofe roſe SCENE ſcorn ſeek ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhould ſhow ſpeak ſtart ſteps ſtill ſtrain ſwain ſweet tears thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou tongue trembling truft Twas vows wake Whofe Whoſe wiſh wretched youth
Популярни откъси
Страница 127 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain ; Let me kiss off that falling tear ; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds ; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Страница 126 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, Does my sweet William sail among the crew ?" William, who high upon the yard, Rock'd with the billows to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below. The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.
Страница 67 - Pride; And if Religion crack her Notions, Lock up her volumes of Devotions; But if for Man her Rage prevail, Bar her the sight of Creatures Male.
Страница 76 - O check the foamy bit, nor tempt thy fate, Think on the murders of a five-bar gate ! Yet prodigal of life, the leap he tries, Low in...
Страница 172 - True conftancy no time, no power, can move. He that hath known to change, ne'er knew to love.
Страница 75 - These stories which descend from son to son, The forward boy shall one day make his own. Ah, too fond mother, think the time draws nigh, That calls the darling from thy tender eye; How shall his spirit brook the rigid rules, And the long tyranny of grammar schools?
Страница 57 - Who chofe with cautious ftep th' uncertain way ; And now he checks the rein, and halts to hear If any noife foretold a village near. At length from far a...
Страница 127 - They'll tell, the failors, when away, In ev'ry port a miftrefs find : Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo, For thou art prefent wherefoe'er I go : If to fair India's coaft we fail, Thy eyes are feen in diamonds bright ; Thy breath is Afric's fpicy gale, Thy fkin is ivory fo white : Thus every beauteous objecT. that I view, Wakes in my foul fome charms of lovely Sue. Tho...
Страница 124 - Tis the restraint that whets our appetite. Behold the beasts who range the forests free, Behold the birds who fly from tree to tree ; In their amours see Nature's power appear ! And do they love ? Yes — One month in the year. Were these the pleasures of the Golden reign ? And did free Nature thus instruct the swain ? I envy not, ye nymphs ! your amorous bowers, Such harmless swains ! I'm even content with ours.
Страница 113 - Oh ! lead me to some melancholy cave, To lull my sorrows in a living grave ; From the dark rock where dashing waters fall, And creeping ivy hangs the craggy wall, Where I may waste in tears my hours away, And never know the seasons or the day. Die, die, Panthea !— fly this hateful grove, For what is life without the swain I love ?