A commonplace book of epigrams analytically arranged, Издање 426 |
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Anacreon answer'd ask'd bard Bavius beauty blest boast Boney BOOK call'd Careless CHARLES charms Chloe cried Crown 8vo dear death Dick divine doctor doubt drink earth Edition Eikon Basilike emblem EPIGRAMS EPITAPH eyes fair fame fate fear foes folly fool French George give grace Greek hast head hear heart heaven IDA PFEIFFER ILLUSTRATED Jack John JOHN CHILDS Justice king kiss knave LADY late Traded lawyers Lesbia lies live LORD Lord Neaves MARRIAGE married Martial MORAL ne'er never o'er once pity poet poor praise pray Price Punch Queen quoth reign replied rich rose sigh Sir John Harrington smile soul steal sure sweet tears tell thee there's thet thine thing THOMAS FULLER thou art true turn'd twas twill Venus verse Washington Irving Whigs wife WILLIAM HONE wise wonder worse
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Страница 73 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Страница 65 - THREE poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of nature could no further go ; To make a third, she joined the former two.
Страница 212 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Страница 73 - Shakspearc and Milton, like gods in the fight, Have put their whole drama and epic to flight ; In satires, epistles, and odes, would they cope. Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope ; And Johnson, well arm'd like a hero of yore, Has beat forty French, \ and will beat forty more...
Страница 138 - But now, her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead, — Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent Street well may say, That had she lived a twelvemonth more — She had not died to-day.
Страница 53 - In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen, about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
Страница 148 - What can the cause be, when the king hath given His poet sack, the household will not pay? Are they so scanted in their store? — or driven For want of knowing the poet, to say him nay? Well, they should know him, would the king but grant His poet leave to sing his household true...
Страница 89 - King George in a fright, Lest Gibbon should write The story of Britain's disgrace, Thought no means more sure His pen to secure, Than to give the historian a place.