The Works of Jonathan Swift: containing additional letters, tracts, and poems, not hitherto published ; with notes, and a life of the author, by Sir Walter Scott, bart, Том 14Bickers & Son, 1883 |
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Страница 13
... honour of my Muse's rage , Nor be thy mighty spirit rais'd , Since Heaven and Cato both are pleas'd- [ The rest of the poem is lost . ] ODE TO THE HON . SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE . WRITTEN AT MOOR - PARK IN JUNE 1689 . I. VIRTUE , the greatest ...
... honour of my Muse's rage , Nor be thy mighty spirit rais'd , Since Heaven and Cato both are pleas'd- [ The rest of the poem is lost . ] ODE TO THE HON . SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE . WRITTEN AT MOOR - PARK IN JUNE 1689 . I. VIRTUE , the greatest ...
Страница 36
... honoured ! false is the pretence You make to truth , retreat , and innocence ! Who , to pollute my shades , bring'st with thee down The most ungenerous vices of the town ; Ne'er sprung a youth from out this isle before I once esteem'd ...
... honoured ! false is the pretence You make to truth , retreat , and innocence ! Who , to pollute my shades , bring'st with thee down The most ungenerous vices of the town ; Ne'er sprung a youth from out this isle before I once esteem'd ...
Страница 54
... honour the cloth ; I design to be a Parson's wife ; I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life . " With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope , as who should say , " Now you may go hang yourself for me : " and so ...
... honour the cloth ; I design to be a Parson's wife ; I never took one in your coat for a conjurer in all my life . " With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope , as who should say , " Now you may go hang yourself for me : " and so ...
Страница 55
... honour cried , gadzooks ! And seem'd to knit his brow : For on a knave he never looks But h ' thinks upon Jack How.t My lady , though she is no player , Some bungling partner takes , And , wedged in corner of a chair , Takes snuff , and ...
... honour cried , gadzooks ! And seem'd to knit his brow : For on a knave he never looks But h ' thinks upon Jack How.t My lady , though she is no player , Some bungling partner takes , And , wedged in corner of a chair , Takes snuff , and ...
Страница 101
... honour , he ever should bed His bloody red hand to her bloody red head . You're proud of your gilding ; but I tell you each nail Is only just tinged with a rub at her tail ; And although it may pass for gold on a ninny , Sure we know a ...
... honour , he ever should bed His bloody red hand to her bloody red head . You're proud of your gilding ; but I tell you each nail Is only just tinged with a rub at her tail ; And although it may pass for gold on a ninny , Sure we know a ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Æsop Apollo bard beauty Behold better Cadenus Caledonian boar call'd chintz coffeehouse Countess of Suffolk court crown dame damn'd Dean dear death Delany divine Domitilla Dublin e'er EPIGRAM eyes face fair fame fancy fate female fill'd foes fools George George II give goddess grace half head hear heart honour JONATHAN SWIFT Jove king lady learning leave look Lord Lord Carteret madam maid MARBLE HILL merit mind moidores mortal Muse ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er Ovid Pallas poem poets poor Pope praise pride quadrille queen rage rhyme rise round satire scarce scene scorn shame shew shine sight sing soon soul spleen Stella Strephon swear Swift tell thee thou thought thousand town turn'd Twas twill Vanessa verse vex'd virtue Whig wise writ
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Страница 54 - Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil ; If your money be gone, as a learned Divine says,* d'ye see, You are no text for my handling ; so take that from me : I was never taken for a Conjurer before, I'd have you to know.
Страница 51 - I was resolved to tell my money, to see if it was right. Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock, I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next my smock.
Страница 329 - The Dean, if we believe report, Was never ill received at court: As for his works in verse and prose, I own myself no judge of those: Nor can I tell what critics thought 'em; But this I know, all people bought 'em; As with a moral view design'd To cure the vices of mankind: His vein, ironically grave, Expos'd the fool, and lash'd the knave: To steal a hint was never known, But what he writ was all his own.
Страница 434 - Three times refined in Titan's rays ; Then calls the Graces to her aid, And sprinkles thrice the newborn maid : From whence the tender skin assumes A sweetness above all perfumes : From whence a cleanliness remains, Incapable of outward stains : From whence that decency of mind, So lovely in the female kind, Where not one careless thought intrudes . Less modest than the speech of prudes ; Where never blush was call'd in aid, That spurious virtue in a maid, A virtue but at second-hand ; They blush...
Страница 450 - Tis an old maxim in the schools, That flattery's the food of fools; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condescend to take a bit.
Страница 306 - Like stepping-stones, to save a stride In streets where kennels are too wide; Or like a heel-piece, to support A cripple with one foot too short: Or like a bridge, that joins a marish To moorlands of a diff'rent parish.
Страница 92 - Box'd in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds, he trembles from within.
Страница 319 - I have no title to aspire; Yet, when you sink, I seem the higher. In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a sigh I wish it mine; When he can in one couplet fix More sense than I can do in six; It gives me such a jealous fit, I cry, "Pox take him and his wit!
Страница 331 - Fair LIBERTY was all his cry; For her he stood prepar'd to die; For her he boldly stood alone; For her he oft expos'd his own. Two kingdoms, just as faction led, Had set a price upon his head; But not a traitor could be found, To sell him for six hundred pound.
Страница 293 - Mournful cypress, verdant willow, Gilding my Aurelia's brows, Morpheus hovering o'er my pillow, Hear me pay my dying vows.