Rejected Addresses: Or, The New Theatrum Poetarum

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John Murray, 1833 - English poetry - 170 pages
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Page 20 - Alike in ignorance, his reason such Whether he thinks too little or too much; Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still, by himself abused or disabused; Created half to rise and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all, Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled, The glory, jest, and riddle of the world...
Page 5 - Who. while the British squadron lay off Cork (God bless the Regent and the Duke of York !) With a foul earthquake ravaged the Caraccas, And raised the price of dry goods and tobaccos ? Who makes the quartern loaf and Luddites rise ? Who fills the butchers
Page 7 - Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace? Go, silly thing, and hide that simp'ring face. Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait, All thy false mimic fooleries I hate; For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she Who is right foolish hath the better plea; Nature's true idiot I prefer to thee.
Page 8 - Jack's in the pouts, and this it is, — He thinks mine came to more than his; So to my drawer he goes, Takes out the doll, and, oh, my stars! He pokes her head between the bars, And melts off half her nose...
Page 146 - Iris' bow, down darts the painted hue, Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue, Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new. George Green below, with palpitating hand, Loops the last "kerchief to the beaver's band. Upsoars the prize ; the youth, with joy unfeign'd...
Page 11 - tis like a town ! The carpet, when they lay it down, Won't hide it, I'll be bound : And there's a row of lamps ; — my eye ! How they do blaze ! I wonder why They keep them on the ground.
Page 101 - MY pensive Public, wherefore look you sad ? I had a grandmother, she kept a donkey To carry to the mart her crockery ware, And when that donkey look'd me in the face, His face was sad ! and you are sad, my Public ! Joy should be yours : this tenth day of October Again assembles us in Drury Lane.
Page 135 - Six years had pass'd, and forty ere the six, " When Time began to play his usual tricks : " The locks once comely in a virgin's sight, " Locks of pure brown, display'd th...
Page 141 - Foil'd in his crash, the leader of the clan Reproves with frowns the dilatory man : Then on his candlestick thrice taps his bow, Nods a new signal, and away they go. Perchance, while pit and gallery cry
Page 96 - Many of them are very fair, but mine is not at all like ; they have made me write burlesque, which I never do.

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