The Poetical Works of Robert Lloyd, A. M.: To which is Prefixed an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, Volume 2

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T. Evans, 1774 - 242 pages
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Page 78 - Shakefpear leads the mind a dance'^ From France to England, hence to France, Talk not to me of time and place ; I own I'm happy in the chace. Whether the drama's here or there, 'Tis nature...
Page 22 - Artist! tho' thy skill can raise The bursting peal of universal praise, Tho' at thy beck Applause delighted stands, And lifts, Briareus' like, her hundred hands, Know, Fame awards thee but a partial breath ! Not all thy talents brave the stroke of death. Poets to ages yet unborn appeal, And latest times th
Page 17 - A single look more marks th' internal woe, Than all the windings of the lengthen'd Oh. Up to the Face the quick sensation flies, And darts its meaning from the speaking Eyes ; Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, And all the passions, all the soul is there. In vain Ophelia gives her flowrets round, And with her...
Page xiv - Nor tinged with envy, wish that genius mine : To Churchill's muse can bow with decent awe, Admire his mode, nor make that mode my law ; Both may perhaps have various powers to please, Be his the strength of numbers, mine the ease.
Page 55 - tis a match ; nay, no denial ; I lay my shell upon the trial.
Page 82 - Fore the beginning of this Play, I, haplefs Paiydore, was found By Fifhermen, or others, drown'd ! Or, I, a Gentleman, did wed, The Lady I wou'd never bed, Great Agamemnon's royal Daughter, Who's coming hither to draw Water.
Page 100 - And poets dread their mock dominion. So have you feen with dire affright, The petty monarch of the night, Seated aloft in elbow chair, Command the...
Page 34 - InJJeepy refidence at college; Whofe lives are like a ftagnant pool, Muddy and placid, dull and cool; Mere drinking, eating; eating, drinking; With no impertinence of thinking...
Page 31 - GEORGE, (thank heav'n !) has got an heir. A royal babe, a PRINCE of WALES. Poets ! I pity all your nails What reams of paper will be fpoil'd ! What gradufes be daily foil'd By inky fingers, greafy thumbs* Hunting the word that never comes ! Now Academics pump their wits, And lafh in vain their lazy tits...
Page 15 - While fober humour marks th' impreffion ftrong. Her proper traits the fixt attention hit, And bring me clofer to the poet's wit; With her delighted o'er each fcene I go, Well-pleas'd, and not amam'd of being fo.

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