The Saunterer: A Periodical Paper ...

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Author, 1805 - 300 страници

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Страница 247 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her/ What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have...
Страница 270 - While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout in speckled pride, The salmon, monarch of the tide; The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Страница 238 - To know the poet from the man of rhymes: Tis he, who gives my breast a thousand pains, Can make me feel each passion that he feigns; Enrage, compose, with more than magic art, With pity, and with terror, tear my heart; And snatch me, o'er the earth, or through the air, To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.
Страница 270 - While, lightly pois'd, the fcaly brood In myriads cleave thy cryftal flood ; The fpringing trout in fpeckled pride ; The falmon, monarch of the tide ; The ruthlefs pike, intent on war; The filver eel, and motled par *. Devolving from thy parent lake, • A charming maze thy waters make, By bowVs of birch, and groves of pine.
Страница 160 - em, and betwixt his grinders caught. Unlike in method, with conceal'd design, Did crafty Horace his low numbers join : And, with a sly insinuating grace, Laugh'd at his friend, and look'd him in the face: Would raise a blush, where secret vice he found ; And tickle, while he gently prob'd the wound. With seeming innocence the crowd beguil'd ; But made the desperate passes, when he smil'd.
Страница 269 - ON Leven's banks, while free to rove, And tune the rural pipe to love, I envied not the happiest swain That ever trod the Arcadian plain. Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; No torrents stain thy limpid source, No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white round...
Страница 268 - The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more fhall roufe them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth fhall burn, Or bufy houfewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lifp their fire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kifs to fhare.
Страница 271 - And night hath loft her fweet repofe : Yet who, alas ! like me was bleft, To others ere thy charms were known ; When fancy told my raptur'd breaft, That Cynthia fmil'd on me alone .' Nymph of my foul ! forgive my fighs ; Forgive the jealous fires I feel ; Nor blame the trembling wretch who dies When others to thy beauties kneel.
Страница 270 - May numerous herds and flocks be seen : And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds piping in the dale ; And ancient faith that knows no guile, And industry embrown'd with toil ; And hearts resolved and hands prepared The blessings they enjoy to guard 1 [S
Страница 270 - That fweetly warbles oe'r its bed, With white, round, polifh'd pebbles fpread ^ While, lightly pois'd, the fcaly brood In myriads cleave thy cryftal flood ; The...

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