Poems and Translations

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B. Lintot and A. Bettesworth, 1727 - English poetry - 192 pages

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Page 148 - Toil, And each infulting Tyrant of the Nile : Our Nation came beneath that mighty Hand, From (^/Egypt's Realms, to Canaan's facred Land.
Page 72 - Of Lawyers forc'd, and Judges brought to bed : Or that to Belles their Brothers breathe their Vows, Or Husbands thro
Page 138 - The fame in death, nor leffen'd by their chains, Why are we doom'd to view the genial ray ? Why curft to bear the painful light of day ? Oh ! with what joy the wretches yield their breath ? And pant in bitten..
Page 106 - And fly for fhelter from the thundering God : Sirion and Lebanon like hinds advance. And in wild meafures lead th' unwieldy dance. His voice, his mighty voice, divides the fire, Back from the blaft the mrinking flames retire.
Page 180 - When haughty Juno thus her Rage expreft } Th' eternal Wound ftill rankling in her Breaft. Then muft I flop ? are all my Labours vain ? And muft this Trojan Prince in Latium reign ? The Fates, I find, may baffle Juno's Aims > And why could Pallas with avenging Flames Burn a whole Navy of the Grecian Ships, And plunge the fcatter'd Argi-ves in the Deeps?
Page 106 - At the dread found the hinds with fear are ftung, And in the lonely foreft drop their young. While in his hallow'd temple all proclaim His glorious honours, and adore his name. High o'er the foaming...
Page 180 - And plunge the fcatter'd Argi-ves in the Deeps? She for the Crime of Ajax, from above Launch'd thro' the Clouds the fiery Bolts of Jove ; Difperft his Fleet, and as her Tempeft flew, Expos'd the Ocean's inmoft Deeps to view. Then, while transfix'd, the blafted Wretch expires, Flames from his Breaft, and Fires fucceeding Fires, Snatch'd in a Whirlwind, with a fudden fhock She hurl'd him headlong on a pointed Rock. But ,- /v...
Page 62 - Man ! fenfelefs man ! canft thou look on ? Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own. The rage of all thy grief exert, Rend thy garments and thy heart...
Page 137 - I flumber'd in the arms of peace ; There with the mighty kings, who lie inroll'd In clouds of incenfe, and in beds of gold : There with the princes, who in grandeur...
Page 139 - For now the dire affliftion which I fled, Pours like a roaring torrent on my head. My terrors ftill the phantom view'd, and wrought The dreadful image into every thought : At length pluck'd down, the fatal ftroke I feel, And lofe the fancy'd in the real ill.

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