Trivia: Or, The Art of Walking the Streets of London

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Bernard Lintot, 1730 - London (England) - 66 pages
 

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Contents

I
5
II
19
III
47

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Page 26 - The scorching dog-star, and the winter's air, While the rich infant, nurs'd with care and pain, Thirsts with each heat, and coughs with ev'ry rain!
Page 62 - Who has not heard the scourer's midnight fame ? Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name ? Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds, Safe from their blows, or new-invented wounds...
Page 50 - ... late snuff-box is no more thy own. But, lo ! his bolder thefts some tradesman spies, Swift from his prey the scudding lurcher flies ; Dext'rous he 'scapes the coach with nimble bounds, Whilst every honest tongue
Page 19 - On doors the sallow milkmaid chalks her gains; Ah! how unlike the milkmaid of the plains! Before proud gates attending asses bray, Or arrogate with solemn pace the way ; These grave physicians, with their milky cheer. The lovesick maid and dwindling beau repair.
Page 48 - And wait impatient till the road grow clear. Now all the pavement sounds with trampling feet, And the mixt hurry barricades the street. Entangled here, the waggon's lengthen'd team Cracks the tough harness : here a pond'rous beam Lies overturn'd athwart ; for slaughter fed Here lowing bullocks raise their horned head. Now oaths grow loud, with coaches coaches jar...
Page 53 - Cross not with venturous step ; there oft is found The lurking thief, who, while the day-light shone, Made the walls echo with his begging tone : That crutch, which late compassion mov'd, shall ' wound Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground.
Page 6 - Within their bounds, and heaps of dirt subside. My youthful bosom burns with thirst of fame, From the great theme to build a glorious name, To tread in paths to ancient bards unknown, And bind my temples with a civic crown : But more my country's love demands my lays ; My country's be the profit, mine the praise ! When the black youth at chosen stands rejoice, And
Page 57 - scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd ? No : the dead know it not, nor profit gain ; It only serves to prove the living vain.
Page 47 - O Trivia, Goddess, leave these low abodes, And traverse o'er the wide ethereal roads, Celestial Queen, put on thy robes of light, Now Cynthia nam'd, fair regent of the Night. At sight of thee the villain sheaths his sword, 5 Nor scales the wall, to steal the wealthy hoard.
Page 47 - Whose straiten'd bounds encroach upon the Strand; Where the low penthouse bows the walker's head, And the rough pavement wounds the yielding tread; 20 Where not a post protects the narrow space, And strung in twines...

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