The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Том 41Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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... 'd choir , 95 To court kind flumbers , to the sprays retire ; When no rude gale difturbs the fleeping trees , Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentleft breeze ; Engag'd Engag'd in thought , to Neptune's bounds I ftray , 4 POEMS . GAY'S.
... 'd choir , 95 To court kind flumbers , to the sprays retire ; When no rude gale difturbs the fleeping trees , Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentleft breeze ; Engag'd Engag'd in thought , to Neptune's bounds I ftray , 4 POEMS . GAY'S.
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With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical Samuel Johnson. Engag'd in thought , to Neptune's bounds I ftray , To take my farewell of the parting day ; Far in the deep the fun his glory hides , A ftreak of gold the fea and fky divides The ...
With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical Samuel Johnson. Engag'd in thought , to Neptune's bounds I ftray , To take my farewell of the parting day ; Far in the deep the fun his glory hides , A ftreak of gold the fea and fky divides The ...
Страница 6
... thought , His bofom glows with treasures yet uncaught , Before his eyes a banquet feems to stand , Where every gueft applauds his fkilful hand . 140 145 Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws , Which down the murmuring current ...
... thought , His bofom glows with treasures yet uncaught , Before his eyes a banquet feems to stand , Where every gueft applauds his fkilful hand . 140 145 Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws , Which down the murmuring current ...
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... in mæanders roll , The fweet composers of the pensive soul ; Farewell ! The city calls me from your bowers : Farewell , amufing thoughts and peaceful hours ! - 440 THE THE FA N. A POE Μ . IN THREE BOOKS 16 POEMS . GAY'S.
... in mæanders roll , The fweet composers of the pensive soul ; Farewell ! The city calls me from your bowers : Farewell , amufing thoughts and peaceful hours ! - 440 THE THE FA N. A POE Μ . IN THREE BOOKS 16 POEMS . GAY'S.
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... thought were pure , When eyes were artlefs , and the look demure ; When the wide ruff the well - turn'd neck inclos'd , And heaving breafts within the ftays repos'd ; When the close hood conceal'd the modeft ear , Ere black - lead combs ...
... thought were pure , When eyes were artlefs , and the look demure ; When the wide ruff the well - turn'd neck inclos'd , And heaving breafts within the ftays repos'd ; When the close hood conceal'd the modeft ear , Ere black - lead combs ...
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Страница 216 - If I would not give up the three Graces, I wish I were hang'd like a dog, And at court all the drawingroom faces, For a glance of my sweet Molly Mog.
Страница 166 - To honest Bounce is bread and butter. While you, and every courtly fop, Fawn on the Devil for a chop, I've the humanity to hate A butcher, though he brings me meat...
Страница 165 - WELCOME, thrice welcome to thy native place ! — What, touch me not ? what, shun a wife's embrace ? Have I for this thy tedious absence borne, And waked, and wish'd whole nights for thy return?
Страница 211 - Coxcombs without number ! Moon and stars that shone so bright, To the torch and waxen light, And whole nights at ombre.
Страница 165 - I see thee ramm'd, Or on the house-top by the monkey cramm'd, The piteous images renew my pain, And all thy dangers I weep o'er again.
Страница 165 - Why start you ? are they snakes ? or have they claws ? Thy Christian seed, our mutual flesh and bone : Be kind at least to these ; they are thy own.
Страница 220 - Churchwardens too prudent to hazard the halter, As yet only venture to steal from the altar. But now, to get gold, They may be more bold, And rob on the highway since Jonathan's cold : For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please. VI. Some by publick revenues, which pass'd thro...
Страница 165 - And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand, Praying the Virgin dear, and saintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.
Страница 214 - twas my pride, 'Twas not my heart thy love deny'd, Come back, dear youth, again. As t'other day my hand he feiz'd, My blood with thrilling motion flew ; Sudden I put on looks difpleas'd, And hafty from his hold withdrew.
Страница 215 - Nephew! Your Grief is but Folly, In Town you may find better Prog; Half a Crown there will get you a Molly, A Molly much better than Mog.