FacetiŠ Cantabrigienses, by Socius

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Page 238 - There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Page 205 - Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.
Page 228 - Once more upon the waters ! yet once more ! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.
Page 101 - Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune : Could love and could hate, so was thought somewhat odd ; No very great wit ;— he believed in a God. A post or a pension he did not desire, But left Church and State to Charles Townshend and Squire.
Page 119 - Yet Michael the archangel, when contending with the devil he disputed about the body of Moses, durst not bring against him a railing accusation, but said, The Lord rebuke thee.
Page 87 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Page 57 - There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes : but what are they among no many ? And Jesus said, Make the men sit down.
Page 231 - By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air!
Page 224 - Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon!
Page 204 - Fell thirst and famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.

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