The Works of the English Poets: SwiftH. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 9
Page 8
... ease ; And , fince too oft ' debauch'd by praise , ' Tis now grown an incurable disease : In vain to quench this foolish fire I try In wisdom and philosophy ; In vain all wholesome herbs I fow , Where nought but weeds will grow . Whate ...
... ease ; And , fince too oft ' debauch'd by praise , ' Tis now grown an incurable disease : In vain to quench this foolish fire I try In wisdom and philosophy ; In vain all wholesome herbs I fow , Where nought but weeds will grow . Whate ...
Page 45
... ease Take journeys in it like a chaife ; Or in a boat , whene'er thou wilt , Canft make it ferve thee for a tilt ! Capacious house ! ' tis own'd by all Thou ' rt well contriv'd , though thou art fmall : For every wit in Britain's ifle ...
... ease Take journeys in it like a chaife ; Or in a boat , whene'er thou wilt , Canft make it ferve thee for a tilt ! Capacious house ! ' tis own'd by all Thou ' rt well contriv'd , though thou art fmall : For every wit in Britain's ifle ...
Page 52
... ease ; . Make me the parfon , if you pleafe . He fpoke , and prefently he feels . His grazier's coat fall down his heels : He fees , yet hardly can believe , About each arm a pudding - sleeve ; His waistcoat to a caflock grew , And both ...
... ease ; . Make me the parfon , if you pleafe . He fpoke , and prefently he feels . His grazier's coat fall down his heels : He fees , yet hardly can believe , About each arm a pudding - sleeve ; His waistcoat to a caflock grew , And both ...
Page 87
... ease . Poor Swift departs ; and , what is worse , With borrow'd money in his purse , Travels at least an hundred leagues , And fuffers numberless fatigues . Suppose him now a Dean complete , Demurely lolling in his feat ; The filver ...
... ease . Poor Swift departs ; and , what is worse , With borrow'd money in his purse , Travels at least an hundred leagues , And fuffers numberless fatigues . Suppose him now a Dean complete , Demurely lolling in his feat ; The filver ...
Page 178
... ease my pains ; Then Stella ran to my relief With chearful face and inward grief ; And , though by Heaven's fevere decrée She fuffers hourly more than me , Ne No cruel mafter could require , From flaves employ'd for 1378 POEMS . SWIFT'S.
... ease my pains ; Then Stella ran to my relief With chearful face and inward grief ; And , though by Heaven's fevere decrée She fuffers hourly more than me , Ne No cruel mafter could require , From flaves employ'd for 1378 POEMS . SWIFT'S.
Contents
218 | |
224 | |
232 | |
238 | |
245 | |
254 | |
262 | |
268 | |
131 | |
140 | |
146 | |
152 | |
158 | |
164 | |
168 | |
175 | |
181 | |
189 | |
199 | |
209 | |
216 | |
276 | |
283 | |
289 | |
292 | |
300 | |
306 | |
332 | |
346 | |
349 | |
355 | |
363 | |
364 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
æther againſt anſwer Apollo Becauſe beft Behold beſt boaſt Cadenus cafe call'd cauſe Dean dear Delany delight dreft Dublin elfe eyes face fafe faid fame fatire fcorn fecret feen fend fent feven fhall fhame fhew fhine fhould fide fight filks filver fince fing firft firſt fkies fome foon foul fpirits ftill fubject fuch fupply fure fwear goddefs grace greateſt himſelf honour houfe houſe Jove juft juſt lady laft laſt lefs loft lord moft moſt Mufe muft muſt ne'er never night nofe numbers nymph o'er Obferve paffion Pallas paſs Phoebus pleaſe poets praiſe prefent profe raiſe reaſon rhyme rife ſay ſhall ſhe Sheridan ſtand ſtate Stella ſtill Swift tell thee thefe theſe thofe THOMAS SHERIDAN thoſe thou thouſand twill uſe Vaneffa verfe verſes virtue WHIG wife Wood worfe
Popular passages
Page 20 - Madam, I die without your grace"— « Item, for half a yard of lace." Who that had wit would place it here, For every peeping fop to jeer ? In power of fpittle and a clout, Whene'er he pleafe, to blot it out; And then, to heighten the difgrace, Clap his own nonfenfe in the place. Whoe'er
Page 49 - to the top> As if they ne'er had touch'da drop. The good old couple were amaz'd, 35 And often on each other gaz'd ; For both were frighten'd to the heart, And juft began to cry, — What art! Then foftly turn'd afide to view Whether the lights were burning blue.
Page 92 - From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay ?" Such tattle often entertains • 95 My lord and me as far as Staines, As once a week we travel down To Windfor, and again to town, Where all that pafles inter
Page 89 - clear, •*• For life, fix hundred pounds a-year, A handfome houfe to lodge a friend,. A river at my garden's end, A terrace-walk, and half a rood £: Of land fet out to plant a Wood. Well, now I have all this and more, I afk not to increafe my
Page 334 - afliam'd to ufe a glafs; And till I fee them with thefe eyes, •» ' Whoever fays you have them, lies. No length of time can make you quit Honour and virtue, fenfe and wit : Thus you may ftill be young to me, While I can better bear than fee. Oh, ne'er may Fortune
Page 159 - Tis never by invention got, Men have it when they know it not. Our converfation to refine, Humour and wit muft both combine : From both we learn to railly well, Wherein fometimes the French excel. Voiture, in various lights, difplays That irony which turns to praife : His genius firft
Page 25 - Truly, fays he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; If your money be gone, as a learned divine fays, d'ye fee, You .are no text for my handling ; fo take that from me : I was never taken for a conjurer before, I'd have you to know.
Page 170 - you live to fee the day When Stella's locks muft all be grey. When age muft print a furrow'd trace On every feature of her face ; Though you, and all your fenfelefs tribe, Could art, or time, or nature bribe, To make you look like Beauty's
Page 51 - which it cannot turn. The groaning-chair began to crawl, •85 Like a huge fnail, along the wall; There ftuck aloft in public view, And, with fmall change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glittering
Page 95 - the Queen A dangerous treatife J writ againft the fpleen; Which, by the ftyle, the matter, and the drift, 'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift. Poor York ! the harmlefs tool of others hate j He fues for pardon ||, and repents too late. Now,