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 - English poetry

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Page 25 - When he with fruitless pain hath skirnm'd the brook, And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook, He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow, Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw, When if an insect fall, (his certain guide) He gently takes him from the whirling tide, Examines well his form with curious eyes, His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and...
Page xv - OF manners gentle, of affections mild ; In wit a man, simplicity a child : With native humour temp'ring virtuous rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age : Above temptation in a low estate, And uncorrupted ev'n among the great : 6 A safe companion, and an easy friend, Unblam'd thro
Page 62 - Shepherds; which is, soothly to say, such as is neither spoken by the country Maiden nor the courtly Dame; nay, not only such as in the present Times is not uttered, but was never uttered in Times past; and, if I judge aright, will never be uttered in Times future.
Page 29 - Now to the copse thy lesser spaniel take, Teach him to range the ditch, and force the brake ; Not closest coverts can protect the game : Hark ! the dog opens ; take thy certain aim. The woodcock flutters ; how he wavering flies ! The wood resounds : he wheels, he drops, he dies.
Page 84 - Two Hazel-Nuts I threw into the Flame, And to each Nut I gave a Sweet-heart's Name. This with the loudest Bounce me sore amaz'd, That in a Flame of brightest Colour blaz'd. As blaz'd the Nut so may thy Passion grow, For 'twas thy Nut that did so brightly glow.
Page xi - O that I had never known what a court was! Dear Pope, what a barren soil (to me so) have I been striving to produce something out of! Why did I not take your advice before my writing fables for the duke, not to write them? Or rather, to write them for some young nobleman? It is my very hard fate, I must get nothing, write for them or against them.
Page 128 - He thinly spreads them through the publick square, Where, all beside the rail, rang'd beggars lie, And from each other catch the doleful cry; With heav'n, for two-pence, cheaply wipes his score, '"''' Lifts up his eyes, and hasts to beggar more.
Page 143 - Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name ? Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds, Safe from their blows, or new-invented wounds...
Page 83 - With my sharp Heel I three times mark the Ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.
Page 70 - Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows. LOBBIN CLOUT. Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter's dear, Of Irish swains potatoe is the chear ; Oats for their feasts, the Scottish shepherds grind.

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