The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volumen 42Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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Página 21
... honour lies ; " And , though thrice dipt from top to toe , " I still fecur'd the poft below , And guarded it with grasp so fast " Not one drop through my fingers past . " Thus owe I to my bashful care , " That all the rage is fettled ...
... honour lies ; " And , though thrice dipt from top to toe , " I still fecur'd the poft below , And guarded it with grasp so fast " Not one drop through my fingers past . " Thus owe I to my bashful care , " That all the rage is fettled ...
Página 38
... honour from the mind , And only left the name behind ; Gold fow'd the world with every ill ; Gold taught the murderer's fword to kill : 10 15 20 ' Twas ' Twas gold inftructed coward - hearts In treachery's more 38 POEMS . GAY'S.
... honour from the mind , And only left the name behind ; Gold fow'd the world with every ill ; Gold taught the murderer's fword to kill : 10 15 20 ' Twas ' Twas gold inftructed coward - hearts In treachery's more 38 POEMS . GAY'S.
Página 56
... honours caft , Through various turns of life the past ; Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm , Now kept a beggar's infant warm ; Now , rang'd within a mifer's coat , Contributes to his yearly groat ; Now , rais'd again from low approach ...
... honours caft , Through various turns of life the past ; Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm , Now kept a beggar's infant warm ; Now , rang'd within a mifer's coat , Contributes to his yearly groat ; Now , rais'd again from low approach ...
Página 73
... Poll , in the uproar , from his cage , With this rebuke outscream'd her rage . " A Parrot is for talking priz'd , But prattling women are defpis'd . 7 35 She She who attacks another's honour , Draws every living thing FABLE S. PART I.
... Poll , in the uproar , from his cage , With this rebuke outscream'd her rage . " A Parrot is for talking priz'd , But prattling women are defpis'd . 7 35 She She who attacks another's honour , Draws every living thing FABLE S. PART I.
Página 74
... honour try'd , Whofe honeft jaws the bribe defy'd ; He stretch'd his hand to proffer more ; The furly Dog his fingers tore . 10 Swit Swift ran the Cur ; with indignation The Mafter took 24 GAY'S POEMS . The Cur and the Mastiff.
... honour try'd , Whofe honeft jaws the bribe defy'd ; He stretch'd his hand to proffer more ; The furly Dog his fingers tore . 10 Swit Swift ran the Cur ; with indignation The Mafter took 24 GAY'S POEMS . The Cur and the Mastiff.
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Términos y frases comunes
Afide againſt Alexis beauty befide beneath bleffing bofom breaſt cafe cauſe CLEANTHES court cries cry'd deſpair difgrace DIONE dy'd Evander eyes FABLE FABLE fafely faid falfe fame fate fave fays fcorn fear fecret feek feem feen fhade fhall fhare fhould fide fighs fight firſt flain flame fleep flies fome fool forrows foul fpeak friendſhip ftand ftate ftill fuch fudden fwain fylvan Guife hand hate hath hear heart Heaven honeft honour hour houſe juft juſt knaves LAURA loft LYCIDAS lyes maid Menalcas mind minifters moſt muft muſt ne'er never nymph o'er paffion PARTHENIA paſt plain Plutus praiſe pride purfue purſue race rais'd raiſe reft reply'd rife rofe ſcorn ſeek ſhall ſhe SHEPHERD ſkill ſtate ſtood tears thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou toil tongue Turkey Twas vex'd Whene'er whofe wife wretch
Pasajes populares
Página 73 - He rais'd his head with whining moan, And thus was heard the feeble tone : ' Ah ! sons ! from evil ways depart ; My crimes lie heavy on my heart. See, see the murder'd geese appear ! Why are those bleeding turkeys there ? Why all around this cackling train, Who haunt my ears for chicken slain?
Página 102 - Spare your comparisons,' replied An angry rose, who grew beside. 'Of all mankind, you should not flout us; What can a poet do without us! In every love-song roses bloom; We lend you colour and perfume. Does it to Chloe's charms conduce, To found her praise on our abuse? Must we, to flatter her, be made To wither, envy, pine and fade?
Página 88 - Dame, (quoth the Raven) spare your oaths, Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes. But why on me those curses thrown ? Goody, the fault was all your own ; For had you laid this brittle ware On Dun, the old sure-footed mare, Though all the Ravens of the Hundred, With croaking had your tongue out-thunder'd, Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs, And you, good Woman, sav'd your eggs.
Página 23 - Hence grew my settled hate to vice. " The daily labours of the bee Awake my soul to industry : Who can observe the careful ant, And not provide for future want ? My dog (the trustiest of his kind) With gratitude inflames my mind : I mark his true, his faithful way, And in my service copy Tray.
Página 110 - Tis thus in friendship : who depend On many, rarely find a friend. A Hare, who in a civil way Complied with everything, like GAY, Was known by all the bestial train, Who haunt the wood or graze the plain. Her care was never to offend, And every creature was her friend.
Página 24 - And from the most minute and mean, A virtuous mind can morals glean. Thy fame is just, the sage replies ; Thy virtue proves thee truly wise.
Página 31 - While I, with weary step and slow, O'er plains and vales, and mountains go. The morning sees my chase begun, Nor ends it till the setting sun.
Página 87 - I'll read my fable. .Betwixt her swagging pannier's load A FARMER'S WIFE to market rode, And, jogging on, with thoughtful care Summ'd up the profits of her ware ; When, starting from her silver dream, Thus far and wide was heard her scream : — That RAVEN on yon left-hand oak (Curse on his ill-betiding croak !) Bodes me no good.
Página 56 - Lord, the spirit there Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire. The features, fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant are very hard to hit; But yet with patience you shall view As much as paint and art can do." "Observe the work!" My Lord replied, "Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Besides, my nose is somewhat long: Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young.
Página 33 - I grant, an ancient Ram replies, We bear no terror in our eyes ; Yet think us not of soul so tame, Which no repeated wrongs inflame ; Insensible of ev'ry ill, Because we want thy tusks to kill.