The Works of the British Poets, with Lives of the Authors, Volume 10 (Google eBook)

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J. Eastburn, 1819 - English poetry
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Page 188 - LIFE. ALL my past life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone : Like transitory dreams giv'n o'er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine ? The present moment's all my lot ; And that, as fast as it is got,
Page 192 - dear mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When, with love's resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me. But her constancy's so weak, She's so wild and apt to wander, That my jealous heart would break, Should we live one day asunder.
Page 196 - of the mind, Which leaves the light of nature, sense, behind: Pathless and dangerous wandering ways it takes, Through error's fenny bogs, and thorny brakes; Whilst the misguided follower climbs with pain Mountains of whimsies, heap'd in his own brain: Stumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong down Into Doubt's boundless sea, where, like to
Page 192 - joys about her move, Killing pleasures, wounding blisses : She can dress her eyes in love, And her lips can warm with kisses. Angels listen when she speaks, She's my delight, all mankind's wonder; But my jealous heart would break, Should we live one day asunder. .1
Page 144 - end are found to be the dangerouser : As no man minds those clocks that use to go Apparently too over-fast or slow. THE truest characters of ignorance Are vanity, and pride, and arrogance; As blind men use to bear their noses higher Than those that have their eyes and sight entire. THE metaphysic's but a
Page 155 - an instrument, And poets by their sufferings grow; As if there were no more to do, To make a poet excellent, But only want and discontent. IT is not poetry that makes men poor; For few do write that were not so before: And those that have writ best, had they
Page 243 - David and the sybils say. What horror will invade the mind, When the strict Judge, who would be kind, Shall have few venial faults to find! The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound Shall through the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground. Nature and death shall, with surprise,
Page 288 - Would bounteous Heaven once more indulge, I'd (For who would so much satisfaction lose As witty nymphs, in conversation, give) Near some obliging modest fair to live : For there's that sweetness in a female mind, Which in a man's we cannot hope to find ! That, by a secret, but a powerful art,
Page 224 - bend, And choose an author as you choose a friend. United by this sympathetic bond, You grow familiar, intimate, and fond: Your thoughts, your words, your styles, your souls No longer his interpreter, but he. [agree; With how much ease is a young Muse betray'd! How nice the reputation of the maid! Your early, kind, paternal care appears,
Page 206 - Shadwell's unfinished works do yet impart Great proofs of force of nature, none of art; With just, bold strokes, he dashes here and there, Showing great mastery with little care, Scorning to varnish his good touches o'er, To make the fools and women praise them more. But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains; He wants no judgment,

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