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Page 7 - The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour : Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night, To blot out order, and extinguish light, Of dull and venal a new world to mould, And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold.
Page 215 - Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known! Go, where to love and to enjoy are one ! Yet take these tears, Mortality's relief, And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief: These little rites, a stone, a verse receive, Tis all a father, all a friend can give...
Page 75 - Night primaeval and of Chaos old ! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Page 184 - To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon ; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire ; Up to her godly garret after sev'n, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Page 179 - And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face; Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul; With Zeuxis...
Page 155 - How think you of our friend the Dean ? I wonder what some people mean ; My lord and he are grown so great, Always together tc te a tete. What ! they admire him for his jokes — See but the fortune of some folks...
Page 84 - ... all the great characters of the age; and this with impunity, their own persons and names being utterly secret and obscure.
Page 199 - Cyprian goddess weeping Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth : Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gor'd with unrelenting tooth. IV. Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers ; Fair Discretion, string the lyre ; Sooth my ever-waking slumbers : Bright Apollo, lend thy choir, V. Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, Arm'd in adamantine chains, Lead me to the crystal mirrors, "Watering soft Elysian plains.
Page 216 - Poets lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie Her works ; and dying, fears herself may die.