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admire beauties beer better born brain bright bring cauſe court dear death drink EPIGRAM EPITAPH ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fear fire firſt flow gave give Grub Grubſtreet Journal half hands happy head heart heav'n hence honour hope John juſt keep kind king lady laſt late learned lies light lines live lord mind moſt muſe muſt nature ne'er never night o'er once pain plain pleaſe pleaſure poet poor praiſe preſent printed royal ſay ſee ſenſe ſet ſhall ſhe Shilling ſhine ſhould ſome ſoul ſtill ſtrong ſuch ſure ſweet tell thee theſe things thoſe thou thought true turn verſe virtue whole whoſe wine wou'd write young
Страница 171 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Страница 143 - Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with fcornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caus'd himfelf to rife ; Damn with faint praife, aflent with civil leer, • And, without fneering, teach the reft to fneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to ftrike...
Страница 142 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Страница 7 - Poets lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie Her works ; and dying, fears herself may die.
Страница 43 - Content with fcience in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feaft rofe fatisfy'd, Thank'd heaven that he had liv'd, and that he dy'd.
Страница 142 - And he, who now to fenfe, now nonfenfe leaning, Means not, but blunders round about a meaning : And he, whofe Fuftian's fo fublimely bad, It is not Poetry, but Profe run mad...
Страница 43 - A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and great: Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd Heaven that he had lived, and that he died.
Страница 142 - Shakespeare's name ; Pretty, in Amber to observe the forms Of Hairs, or Straws, or Dirt, or Grubs, or Worms : The Thing, we know, is neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the Devil it got there.
Страница 16 - E'er the first ends, the Father and the Son : Or else so needful, and exactly grac'd, That nothing is ill-suited, or ill-plac'd. True Epic's a vast World, and this a small; One has its proper beauties, and one all. Like Cynthia, one in thirty days appears, Like Saturn one, rolls round in thirty years.