The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Том 40Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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... divine * ; My prelates and my students , fent from hence , Made your fons converts both to God and fenfe : Not like the paftors of thy ravenous breed , Who come to fleece the flocks , and not to feed . Wretched Ierne ! with what grief I ...
... divine * ; My prelates and my students , fent from hence , Made your fons converts both to God and fenfe : Not like the paftors of thy ravenous breed , Who come to fleece the flocks , and not to feed . Wretched Ierne ! with what grief I ...
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... divine , Whose verses far his rays out - fhine , Look down upon your quondam foe ; Oh ! let me never write again , If e'er I difoblige you , Dean , Should you compaffion show . Take those Iambicks which I wrote , When anger made me ...
... divine , Whose verses far his rays out - fhine , Look down upon your quondam foe ; Oh ! let me never write again , If e'er I difoblige you , Dean , Should you compaffion show . Take those Iambicks which I wrote , When anger made me ...
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... divine , Shall keep the key of my no - wine ; My ice - house rob , as heretofore , And steal my artichokes no more ; Poor Patty Blount no more be seen Bedraggled in my walks so green : Plump Johnny Gay will now elope ; And here no more ...
... divine , Shall keep the key of my no - wine ; My ice - house rob , as heretofore , And steal my artichokes no more ; Poor Patty Blount no more be seen Bedraggled in my walks so green : Plump Johnny Gay will now elope ; And here no more ...
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... Divine Been for your conversation fit , You had not writ a line . wit ; Of Sherlock thus , for preaching fam'd , The Sexton reafon'd well ; And juftly half the merit claim'd , Because he rang the bell . A LOVE POEM FROM A PHYSICIAN TO ...
... Divine Been for your conversation fit , You had not writ a line . wit ; Of Sherlock thus , for preaching fam'd , The Sexton reafon'd well ; And juftly half the merit claim'd , Because he rang the bell . A LOVE POEM FROM A PHYSICIAN TO ...
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... Divine ! I fuppofe , meaning mine ! ) No lady who wants them Can ever be handfome . I guess well enough What he means by this ftuff : He haws and he hums , At laft out it comes : What , Madam ? No walk- ing , No reading , nor talking ...
... Divine ! I fuppofe , meaning mine ! ) No lady who wants them Can ever be handfome . I guess well enough What he means by this ftuff : He haws and he hums , At laft out it comes : What , Madam ? No walk- ing , No reading , nor talking ...
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againſt Ballyfpellin Becauſe beſt cafe chufe court Dean DEAN SWIFT dear defire Dick divine Doctor drefs dreft Dublin eyes fafe faid fame fate fatire fave fcorn feen fend fenfe fent ferve fhall fhew fhine fhould fide fince fing firft firſt fkies fome fons fools foon foul fpirits friends ftand ftill fubject fuch fure fwear give goddeſs grace hath head hear heart himſelf honour houſe IRISH juft juſt king lady laft laſt lefs loft lord madam MARBLE-HILL mattadore mind moſt Mufe muft muſt ne'er never nymph o'er paffion pleaſe poem poets Pope praiſe pride profe quadrille raiſe reafon reft rhyme rife round ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkill ſpeak ſtate ſtation STEPHEN DUCK ſtill Strephon ſtyle Swift thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand Tory Twill verfe vex'd virtue Whig whofe Whoſe wife worfe
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Страница 250 - dead, Than all the fnivelers round my bed. My good companions, never fear; ' For though you may miftake a year, Though your prognoftics run too faft, 145 They mu'ft be verify'd at laft. Behold the fatal day arrive ! *' How is the Dean ?''—" He 's juft alive." Now the departing prayer is read ; He hardly breathes — The Dean is dead.
Страница 276 - And, when his medicines do no good, Supports their minds with heavenly food, At which, however well intended, He hears the clergy are offended ; And grown fo bold behind his back, To call him hypocrite and quack. In his own church he keeps a feat ; Says grace before and after meat; And calls, without affefting airs, His
Страница 221 - Untwifts a wire, and from her gums A fet of teeth completely comes. Pulls out the rags contriv'd to prop Her flabby dugs, and down they drop. Proceeding on, the lovely Goddefs Unlaces next her fteel-ribb'd bodice, Which, by the operator's fkill, Prefs down the lumps, the hollows fill. Up goes her hand, and off
Страница 72 - four o'clock." The chairmen are not to be found, " Come, let us play the other round." Now all in hafte they huddle on Their hoods, their cloaks, and get them gone ; But, firft, the winner muft invite The company to-morrow night. Unlucky madam, left in tears ..(Who now again quadrille forfwears), With empty
Страница 254 - To fancy they could live a year ! " I find you 're but a ftranger here. " The Dean was famous in his time, " And had a kind of knack at rhyme. " His way of writing now is paft
Страница 149 - Do but hear on the Clergy how glib his tongue ran ; " And, madam, fays he, if fuch dinners you give, " You'll ne'er want for Parfons as long as you live. " I ne'er knew a Parfon without a good nofe;
Страница 14 - to wrap up fpice. Get all your verfes printed fair, Then let them well be dried ; And Curll muft have a fpecial care To leave the margin wide. Lend thefe to paper-fparing* Pope; And when he fits to write, No letter with an envelope Could give him more delight. When Pope has fill'd the margins round, Why then recall your loan
Страница 145 - And not among ladies to give themfelves airs." .? Thus argued my Lady, but argued in vain ; The Knight his opinion refolved to maintain. But Hannah f, who liften'd to all that was paft, . ] And could not endure fo vulgar a tafte, * A cant word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman. F.
Страница 145 - But a rabble of tenants, and rufty dull * Rums. " With Parfons what lady can keep herfelf clean ? . " I 'm all over daub'd when I fit by the Dean. ; " But if you will give us a barrack, my dear, , ! " The Captain, I 'm fure, will always come here; ,
Страница 64 - for not a line Of all the fatire fliall be mine. Compell'd by you to tag in rhymes The common flanders of the times, Of modern times, the guilt is yours. And me my innocence fecures. Unwilling Mufe, begin thy lay, The annals of a female day. By nature turn'd to play the rake