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bard Bavius bless'd breast call'd Catherine of Portugal cats charms Codrus Colley Cibber court cries crimes crown cursed Cutty-sark dare Dean divine dread dull e'en e'er eyes fair fame fate fear fire fix'd foes folly fool genius give gold golden reign grace hand hath head hear heart Heaven honour king knave land laugh learned live Lord Lothario LYDFORD LAW maid Miss Ann Thrope Muse ne'er never night numbers Numps nymph o'er pass'd poet poison'd poor praise pride rage reign rhyme rogue round satire SATIRE OF JUVENAL scorn sense shame shine Sichaeus sing slave smile soon soul spleen sure sweet taste Thales thee thou thought throne toil tongue true truth turn Twas Tyburn verse Vex'd vice virtue Whig Whilst wise wretch write youth
Page 2 - A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger when the waves went high, He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit. Great wits are sure to madness near allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide; Else, why should he, with wealth and honour blest, Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Page 1 - A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Page 363 - Much wonder'd that the silly sheep had found Such cause of terror in an empty sound, So sweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound. MORAL. Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away.
Page 336 - When, pop! she starts before their nose; As eager runs the market-crowd, When 'Catch the thief!' resounds aloud; So Maggie runs, the witches follow, Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow.
Page 87 - He, who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft, Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left: And He, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning, Means not, but blunders round about a meaning: And He, whose fustian's so sublimely bad, It is not Poetry, but prose run mad: All these, my modest Satire bade translate, And own'd that nine such Poets made a late.
Page 331 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The Souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,...
Page 333 - And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll: When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers...
Page 331 - That ilka melder, wi' the miller, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; That ev'ry naig was ca'da shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, Thou drank wi
Page 82 - Twit'nam, and in humble strain Apply to me to keep them mad or vain. Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws, Imputes to me and my dainn'd works the cause : Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope. Friend to my life ! (which did not you prolong, The world had wanted many an idle song) What drop or nostrum can this plague remove?