The Works of Mr. John Gay: In Four Volumes. To which is Added an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author ...

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James Potts, 1770

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Страница 104 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, Does my sweet William sail among the crew ?" William, who high upon the yard, Rock'd with the billows to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below. The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.
Страница 116 - Whether amid the gloom of night I stray, Or my glad eyes enjoy revolving day, Still Nature's various face informs my sense, Of an all-wise, all-pow'rful Providence. When the gay sun first breaks the shades of night...
Страница 47 - My steps shall lead thee to the secret prize; There dig and find ; let that thy care reward : Call loud on...
Страница 53 - Those hands by mean extortion thrive, Or in the pocket lightly dive : Or, more expert in pilfering vice, They burn and itch to cog the dice. Plunge in a courtier; straight his fears Direct his hands to stop his ears.
Страница 140 - True constancy no time, no power can move. He that hath known to change, ne'er knew to love.
Страница 119 - Almighty word obey'd, Thou wert; and when the subterraneous flame Shall burst its prison, and devour this frame, From angry Heaven when the keen lightning flies, When fervent heat dissolves the melting skies, Thou still shalt be ; still as thou wert before, And know no change, when time shall...
Страница 60 - Foul scandal to the lying lip affords, And prompts the mem'ry with injurious words. O where is wisdom, when by this o'erpower'd? The State is censur'd, and the maid deflower'd!
Страница 46 - At first he hears the wind with hollow roar Shake the loose lock, and swing the creaking door Nearer and nearer draws the dreadful sound Of rattling chains, that dragg'd upon the ground : When lo, the spectre came with horrid...
Страница 162 - Tis pride alone that keeps alive her fcorn. Can the mean fwain, in humble cottage born, Can Poverty that haughty heart obtain, Where avarice and ftrong ambition reign ? If Poverty pafs by in tatter'd coat, Curs vex his heels and...
Страница 6 - I want a place as well as you.' Another ask'd me, why I had not writ? A poet owes his fortune to his wit.

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