The Works of Peter Pindar, Esq. [pseud.]: To which are Prefixed Memoirs of the Author's Life, Том 3

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Satires in verse, mainly political.

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Страница 192 - I wondering pause o'er Shakspeare's page, I mark, in visions of delight, the sage, High o'er the wrecks of man, who stands sublime ; A Column in the melancholy Waste (Its cities humbled, and its glories past), Majestic, 'mid the solitude of time.
Страница 309 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour, but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!
Страница 311 - ... his pride. He chose a mournful muse, Soft pity to infuse ; He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood'; Deserted at his utmost need By those his former bounty fed ! On the bare earth exposed he lies, With not a friend to close his eyes.
Страница 428 - Nicholson's mad Knights ; A joke upon the shave of Cooks at Court ; — Charms the fair Muse, and eke the World delights ; A pretty piece of inoffensive sport. Lo, in a little inoffensive Smile There lurks no Lever to oerturn the State, And King and Parliament (intention vile !), And hurl the Queen of Nations to her fate. No gunpowder my modest garrets hold, Dark lanterns, blunderbusses, masks, and matches ; Few words my simple furniture unfold ; A bed, a stool, a rusty coat in patches. Carpets,...
Страница 141 - ... &c. in favour of the two Kingdoms ; why might not a literary commerce take place between the great Kien Long, and the no less celebrated Peter Pindar? Thou art a man of Rhymes; and so am I.
Страница 224 - Maid:"— I verily believe that I should go : Yet parting should I say to thee, "Farewell; I cannot help it ; witchcraft's in her cell, The Passions like to be where tempests blow. "Go, Girl, enjoy thy Fish, and Flies, and Doves; But suffer me to giggle with the Loves.
Страница 190 - Deity of flesh and blood ? 0 lock the temple with thy strongest key, For fear thy Deity, a comely she, Should one day ramble in a frolic mood : —
Страница 168 - By heavens, thou mov'st a leg, and now its brother. And kicking, lo, again, thou mov'st another! And now thy little drunken eyes unclose, And now thou feelest for thy little nose, And, finding it, thou rubbest thy two hands Much as to say,
Страница 332 - A batch of bullocks ! see Great Caesar run: He stops the Drover — bargain is begun. He feels their ribs and rumps — he shakes his head — 'Poor, Drover, poor — poor, very poor indeed.
Страница 167 - tis with mortals, as it is with flies. Forever hankering after pleasure's cup, Though fate, with all his legions, be at hand, The beasts the draught of Circe can't withstand, But in goes every nose — they must, will sup.