The Works of the English Poets: Prior

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H. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry
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Page 129 - To be vexed at a trifle or two that I writ, Your judgment at once and my passion you wrong: You take that for fact which will scarce be found wit: Od's life!
Page 136 - Be to her virtues very kind; Be to her faults a little blind; Let all her ways be unconfin'd; And clap your padlock — on her mind.
Page 130 - Thetis's breast. So, when I am wearied with wandering all day, To thee, my delight, in the evening I come : No matter what beauties I saw in my way ; They were but my visits, but thou art my home ! Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war, And let us like Horace and Lydia agree ; For thou art a girl as much brighter than her, As he was a poet sublimer than me.
Page 108 - Or on Meander's bank, or Latmus' peak. But in this nymph, my friend, my sister know : She draws my arrows, and she bends my bow : Fair Thames she haunts, and every neighb'ring grove, Sacred to soft recess, and gentle love.
Page 130 - tis his fancy to run ; At night he declines on his Thetis's breast. So when I am wearied with wandering all day, To thee, my delight, in the evening I come: No matter what beauties I saw in my way; They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
Page 199 - Or if it be his fate to meet With folks who have more wealth than wit. He loves cheap port, and double bub, And settles in the Humdrum Club; He learns how stocks will fall or rise; Holds poverty the greatest vice ; Thinks wit the bane of conversation ; And says that learning spoils a nation.
Page 106 - To Me pertains not, She replies, To know or care where CUPID flies ; What are his Haunts, or which his Way ; Where He would dwell, or whither stray : Yet will I never set Thee free : For Harm was meant, and Harm to Me.
Page 33 - Till, patience vex'd, and legs grown weary, I thought it was in vain to tarry: But did opine it might be better, By penny-post to send a letter; Now if you miss of this epistle, I'm balk'd again, and may go whistle.
Page 138 - The Change, the City, or the Play, As each was proper for the day : A turn in summer to Hyde Park, When it grew tolerably dark.
Page 92 - S'en va tomber sous la foudre Qui dompta Lille, Courtrai; Gand, la superbe espagnole, Saint-Omer, Besançon, Dole, Ypres, Mastricht et Cambrai. Mes présages s'accomplissent : 11 commence à chanceler. Sous les coups qui retentissent Ses murs s'en vont s'écrouler.

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