The First Part of Miscellany Poems: Containing Variety of New Translations of the Ancient Poets: Together with Several Original Poems. By the Most Eminent Hands. Publish'd by Mr. Dryden
Jacob Tonson, 1716
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Страница 34 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Страница 148 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Страница 145 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Страница 163 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns appeared Under the opening eyelids of the morn, We drove afield, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn...
Страница 152 - While rocking winds are piping loud, Or ushered with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling...
Страница 6 - This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, New humours to invent for each new play : This is that boasted bias of thy mind, By which, one way, to dulness 'tis inclined: Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, And, in all changes, that way bends thy will.
Страница 164 - What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore. The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Страница 24 - Refuse his age the needful hours of rest ? Punish a body which he could not please ; Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease ? And all to leave what with his toil he won, To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son ; Got while his soul did huddled notions try, And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy.
Страница 24 - Oh ! had he been content to serve the crown With virtues only proper to the gown, Or had the rankness of the soil been freed From cockle that oppressed the noble seed, David for him his tuneful harp had strung And Heaven had wanted one immortal song.
Страница 167 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies That sing, and singing in their glory move And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.