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Æsop Alumn arms artsul aster Bard beauteous beauty behold Belga besore bless blest blifs bosom breast breath bright Charles CHARLES HOPKINS charms colours coursers crown'd dare dear death delight doth duke earl Epigrams Ev'n eyes fair fame fancy fate flame foes foul genius glory grace happy heart Heaven heavenly hero honour Joseph Trapp Jove King lady laurels lays lest light lise live Lord lov'd lyre Malebranche mind Muse ne'er numbers nymph o'er ORRERY paint Phœbus pleas'd poem poet praife pride Prince quæ quam Queen rage raife reign Samuel Croxall sear seel shade shine sield sierce sight simd sire sirst six'd skies smiles soft song soul strain suture sweet tears thee thine thou thought thunder trembling tunesul Venus verse virtue Westminster school Whilst wonder youth
Page 16 - ... get you gone, You Picts in gentry and devotion, You scandal to the stock of verse — a race Able to bring the gibbet in disgrace!
Page 14 - Aton'd their sins, and christ'ned half the land. Nor is it all the nation hath these spots ; There is a Church, as well as Kirk of Scots. As in a picture where the squinting paint...
Page 14 - Scot : Had Cain been Scot, God would have chang'd his doom ; Not forc'd him wander, but confin'd him home.
Page 353 - Peleus' fon, untaught to yield, Wrathful forfook the hoftile field ; His breaft ftill warm with heav'nly fire, He tun'd the lay and fwept the lyre. • So Chatham, whofe exalted foul, Pervaded and infpir'd the whole ; Where far, by martial glory led, Britain her fails and banners fpread, Retires, tho' Wifdom's God difluades, And feeks repofe in rural fhades.
Page 225 - And, truft me, fo it would appear to me, Like the firft man, were I not lonely found. And but half bleft, my Delia, wanting thee.
Page 224 - Survey the produft of thy fhepherd's toil, Nor rob the villa of the villa's grace. Whate'er improvements ftrike thy curious fight, Thy tafte hath form'd — let me not call it mine, Since when I mufe on thee, and feed delight, I form no thought that is not wholly thine. Th...
Page 145 - ... downy peach make court to thee ? Or that thy sense shall ever meet The bean-flower's deep-embosom'd sweet Exhaling with an evening blast ? Thy evenings then will all be past! Thy narrow pride, thy fancied green (For vanity's in little seen) All must be left when Death appears, In spite of wishes, groans, and tears; Nor one of all thy plants that grow But Rosemary will with thee go.
Page 159 - To sum up my good fortune, I fetch'd him me down. There were three or four bidders, — I cannot tell whether ,But they never could come two upon me together; For as soon as one spoke, then immediately pop I advanc'd...