The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper;: Shakspeare, Davies, Donne, Hall, Stirling, Jonson, Corbet, Carew, DrummondSamuel Johnson J. Johnson; J. Nichols and son; R. Baldwin; F. and C. Rivington; W. Otridge and Son; Leigh and Sotheby; R. Faulder and Son; G. Nicol and Son; T. Payne; G. Robinson; Wilkie and Robinson; C. Davies; T. Egerton; Scatcherd and Letterman; J. Walker; Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe; R. Lea; J. Nunn; Lackington, Allen, and Company; J. Stockdale; Cuthell and Martin; Clarke and Sons; J. White and Company; Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme; Cadell and Davies; J. Barker; John Richardson; J.M. Richardson; J. Carpenter; B. Crosby; E. Jeffery; J. Murray; W. Miller; J. and A. Arch; Black, Parry, and Kingsbury; J. Booker; S. Bagster; J. Harding; J. Mackinlay; J. Hatchard; R.H. Evans; Matthews and Leigh; J. Mawman; J. Booth; J. Asperne; P. and W. Wynne; and W. Grace, Deighton and Son at Cambridge; and Wilson and Son at York, 1810 - English poetry |
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Page 236
... gaine , and spared losse . He thus laughs at the quintessence of a sublimated mineral elixir . Each powdred graine ransometh captive kings , Purchaseth realmes , and life prolonged brings " . 45 B. ii . 2. f . 28. In the last line of ...
... gaine , and spared losse . He thus laughs at the quintessence of a sublimated mineral elixir . Each powdred graine ransometh captive kings , Purchaseth realmes , and life prolonged brings " . 45 B. ii . 2. f . 28. In the last line of ...
Page 267
... gaines , I weigh them not . So may the giant roam and write on high , Be he a dwarfe that writes not their as I. But well fare Strabo , which , as stories tell , Contriv'd all Troy within one walnut shell . His curious ghost now lately ...
... gaines , I weigh them not . So may the giant roam and write on high , Be he a dwarfe that writes not their as I. But well fare Strabo , which , as stories tell , Contriv'd all Troy within one walnut shell . His curious ghost now lately ...
Page 268
... gaine , Men give a groate , and aske the rest againe . Groats - worth of health can anie leech allot ? Yet should he have no more that gives a groate . Should I on each sicke pillow leane my brest , And grope the pulse of everie mangie ...
... gaine , Men give a groate , and aske the rest againe . Groats - worth of health can anie leech allot ? Yet should he have no more that gives a groate . Should I on each sicke pillow leane my brest , And grope the pulse of everie mangie ...
Page 273
... gaine ? All these and more deserve some blood - drawn lines , But my six cords beene of too loose a twine : Stay till my beard shall sweep mine aged breast , Then shall I seem an awful satyrist : While now my rhymes relish of the ferule ...
... gaine ? All these and more deserve some blood - drawn lines , But my six cords beene of too loose a twine : Stay till my beard shall sweep mine aged breast , Then shall I seem an awful satyrist : While now my rhymes relish of the ferule ...
Page 277
... gaine Buys all but for one quarter of the mayne ; Whiles if he chance to breake his deare - bought day And forfeit , for default of due repay , His late entangled lands ; then , Fridoline , Buy thee a wallet , and go beg or pine . If ...
... gaine Buys all but for one quarter of the mayne ; Whiles if he chance to breake his deare - bought day And forfeit , for default of due repay , His late entangled lands ; then , Fridoline , Buy thee a wallet , and go beg or pine . If ...
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Common terms and phrases
angels Antinous bear beasts beauty BEN JONSON bloud body breath brest COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court dance dead dear death delight disdaine Donne dost doth Earth errour ev'ry eyes face fair falne false fame fear fire foes foul give glory God's grace grief grone hand hate hath haue hear heart Heaven Hell honour JOHN DONNE king kiss light live look Lord loue lov'd love's Lucrece lust mind Muse never night nought once pain pleasure poison'd poor pow'r praise prince quoth rage SATIRE SATIRE IV SATIRE VII scape scorn seem'd sense Shakspeare shalt shame sighs sight sinne sonne SONNET soul sprite straight strange Sunne sweet tears thee thence thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true truth twixt unto virtue weep Whil'st wilt wind wretched