The Works of the English Poets: SwiftH. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 12
Page 52
... Wish'd women might have children fast , And thought whofe fow had farrow'd last ; - Against diffenters would repine , And stood up firm for right divine ; 115 120 125 130 Found Found his head fill'd with many a system : But 52 POEM S ...
... Wish'd women might have children fast , And thought whofe fow had farrow'd last ; - Against diffenters would repine , And stood up firm for right divine ; 115 120 125 130 Found Found his head fill'd with many a system : But 52 POEM S ...
Page 74
... wish one evening that a ballad might be made on the earl of Nortingham ; this fong was written and printed the next morning . He He has vamp'd an old fpeech , and the court 74 POEMS . SWIFT'S "The Fable of Midas, 1711 7 1 An excellent ...
... wish one evening that a ballad might be made on the earl of Nortingham ; this fong was written and printed the next morning . He He has vamp'd an old fpeech , and the court 74 POEMS . SWIFT'S "The Fable of Midas, 1711 7 1 An excellent ...
Page 130
... yes ! The goddefs would no longer wait ; But , rifing from her chair of ftate , Left all below at fix and feven , ; Harnefs'd her doves , and flew to heaven . 875 880 885 то TO LOVE * . N all I wish , how 130 POEMS . SWIFT'S.
... yes ! The goddefs would no longer wait ; But , rifing from her chair of ftate , Left all below at fix and feven , ; Harnefs'd her doves , and flew to heaven . 875 880 885 то TO LOVE * . N all I wish , how 130 POEMS . SWIFT'S.
Page 131
Samuel Johnson. TO LOVE * . N all I wish , how happy fhould I be , IN Thou grand Deluder , were it not for thee ! So weak thou art , that fools thy power defpife , And yet fo ftrong , thou triumph'ft o'er the wife . Thy traps are laid ...
Samuel Johnson. TO LOVE * . N all I wish , how happy fhould I be , IN Thou grand Deluder , were it not for thee ! So weak thou art , that fools thy power defpife , And yet fo ftrong , thou triumph'ft o'er the wife . Thy traps are laid ...
Page 180
... wish the earth upon him light . Oh London tavern ! thou haft loft a friend , Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing spend : He touch'd the pence , when others touch'd the pot ; The hand that fign'd the mortgage paid the shot . Old as ...
... wish the earth upon him light . Oh London tavern ! thou haft loft a friend , Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing spend : He touch'd the pence , when others touch'd the pot ; The hand that fign'd the mortgage paid the shot . Old as ...
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,