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appear arms bear better bound breast bring comes command court Dean dear death delight desire doubt earth Emma epigram ev'ry face fair fall fame fate fear feel flame flowing force future gave give grace grief hand happy hast head hear heart heav'n Henry honour hope hour human kind king land leave light live look Lord lost maid mind mourn nature ne'er never night o'er once pain passion plain pleasure poet poor pow'r praise pride race rage reason rest rise round sense soon sorrow soul stand sure tears tell thee thing thou thought thousand Till turn vain various virtue whilst winds wish woods wretched youth
Side 147 - His stomach too begins to fail: 'Last year we thought him strong and hale; 'But now, he's quite another thing; 'I wish he may hold out till Spring.' Then hug themselves, and reason thus; 'It is not yet so bad with us.
Side 12 - Thomas, did'st thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man's shop? There, Thomas, did'st thou never see (Tis but by way of Simile !) A squirrel spend his little rage, In jumping round a rolling cage? The cage, as either side...
Side 145 - I believe them true; They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault is in mankind. This maxim more than all the rest Is thought too base for human breast: 'In all distresses of our friends, We first consult our private ends; While nature, kindly bent to ease us, Points out some circumstance to please us.
Side 122 - IN ancient times, as story tells, The saints would often leave their cells, And stroll about but hide their quality To try good people's hospitality. It...
Side 155 - To turn religion to a fable, And make the government a Babel ; Pervert the laws, disgrace the gown, Corrupt the senate, rob the crown ; To sacrifice old England's glory, And make her infamous in story: When such a tempest shook the land, How could unguarded virtue stand! •• With horror, grief, despair, the Dean Beheld the dire destructive scene : His friends in exile, or the tower, Himself within the frown of power; Pursued by base envenom'd pens, Far to the land of s and fens; A servile race...
Side 167 - Parnassus' top you sit, You rarely bite, are always bit : Each poet of inferior size On you shall rail and criticize, And strive to tear you limb from limb ; While others do as much for him.
Side 165 - And if we have not read Longinus, Will magisterially outshine us. Then, lest with Greek he overrun ye, Procure the book for love or money, Translated from Boileau's translation, And quote quotation on quotation.
Side 12 - DEAR Thomas, didst thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man's shop? There, Thomas, didst thou never see ('Tis but by way of simile) A squirrel spend his little rage, In jumping round a rolling cage? The cage, as either side turn'd up, Striking a ring of bells a-top?