A collection of poems: viz The temple of death: by the marquis of Normanby. An epistle to the earl of Dorset: by Charles Montague, lord Halifax. The duel of the stags: by sir Robert Howard. With several original poems, never before printed, by the e. of Roscommon [and others.].

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Page 398 - Frofts With pleafant Wines, and crackling Blaze of Wood ; Me, lonely fitting, nor the glimmering Light Of make-weight Candle, nor the joyous Talk Of loving Friend delights ; diftrefs'd, forlorn, Amidft the Horrors of the tedious Night, Darkling I figh, and feed with difmal Thoughts My anxious Mind ; or fometimes mournful Verfe Indite, and fing of Groves and Myrtle Shades, Or defperate Lady near a purling Stream, Or Lover pendent on a Willow Tree.
Page 311 - Players and plays reduced to second infancy. Sharp to the world, but thoughtless of renown, They plot not on the stage, but on the town, And, in despair, their empty pit to fill, Set up some foreign monster in a bill. Thus they jog on, still tricking, never thriving, And murdering plays, which they miscall reviving.
Page 153 - Love is a burthen, which two hearts, When equally they bear their parts, With pleasure carry ; but no one, Alas, can bear it long alone. I'm not of those who court their pain, And make an idol of disdain ; My hope in love does ne'er expire, But it extinguishes desire.
Page 31 - I'll expeft the fatal blow ; My limbs not trembling, in my mind no fear, Plaints in my mouth, nor in my eyes a tear. Think not that Time, our wonted fure relief, That univerfal cure for every grief, Whofe aid fo many lovers oft...
Page 162 - IT is not, Celia, in our power To say how long our love will last; It may be we within this hour May lose those joys we now do taste: The Blessed, that immortal be, From change in love are only free. Then since we mortal lovers are, Ask not how long our love will last; But while it does, let us take care Each minute be with pleasure passed: Were it not madness to deny To live because we're sure to die?
Page 306 - And ftill me might, had wanton wits not been; Who, like ill guardians, liv'd themfelves at large, And, not content with that, debauch'd their charge, Like fome brave captain, your...
Page 276 - The doom, of his fam'd rival he bemoan'd, And the bafe author of the crime dethron'd. Such were the virtuous maxims of the great, Free from the fervile arts of...
Page 388 - Could guard him from her conquering eyes. Orange with youth experience has ; In action young, in council old : Orange is what Augustus was, Brave, wary, provident, and bold.
Page 381 - But could with Thunder harden'd Rebels break. Yet though they wak'd the Laws, His tender Mind Was undifturb'd, in Wrath feverely kind. Tempting His Power, 'and urging to aflume j ,".' Thus Jove in Love did Semele confume.
Page 346 - They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempests lost. One while they seem to touch the port, Then straight into the main Some angry wind in cruel sport The vessel drives again. At first disdain and pride they fear, Which...

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