Miscellaneous poemsArchibald Constable and Company Edinburgh; White, Cochrane, and Company and Gale, Curtis, and Fenner, London; and John Cumming, Dublin., 1814 |
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... NST DOMI MINA NUS TIO ILLU MEA T V L UTI ON PRESENTED BY THE MISSES ESTHER CATHARINE , SUSAN MARY AND JOSEPHINE FRY FROM THE LIBRARY OF THE LATE JOSEPH FORREST FRY AND SUSANNA FRY J WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT , D.D. DEAN OF ST.
... NST DOMI MINA NUS TIO ILLU MEA T V L UTI ON PRESENTED BY THE MISSES ESTHER CATHARINE , SUSAN MARY AND JOSEPHINE FRY FROM THE LIBRARY OF THE LATE JOSEPH FORREST FRY AND SUSANNA FRY J WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT , D.D. DEAN OF ST.
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... late Illness and Recovery , Verses written in a Lady's Ivory Table - book , Mrs Frances Harris's Petition , A Ballad on the Game of Traffic , 13 21 23 36 45 50 52 58 A Ballad , to the tune of the Cut - purse , 59 The Discovery , 61 The ...
... late Illness and Recovery , Verses written in a Lady's Ivory Table - book , Mrs Frances Harris's Petition , A Ballad on the Game of Traffic , 13 21 23 36 45 50 52 58 A Ballad , to the tune of the Cut - purse , 59 The Discovery , 61 The ...
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... late famous General , Dr Delany's Villa , 174 175 Verses on one of the windows at Delville , Carberiæ Rupes , Carbery Rocks , translated by Dr Dunkin , Copy of the Birth - day Verses on Mr Ford , On Dreams , an imitation of Petronius ...
... late famous General , Dr Delany's Villa , 174 175 Verses on one of the windows at Delville , Carberiæ Rupes , Carbery Rocks , translated by Dr Dunkin , Copy of the Birth - day Verses on Mr Ford , On Dreams , an imitation of Petronius ...
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Jonathan Swift. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . VOL . XIV . A MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . ODE TO DR WILLIAM SANCROFT . LATE.
Jonathan Swift. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . VOL . XIV . A MISCELLANEOUS POEMS . ODE TO DR WILLIAM SANCROFT . LATE.
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Apollo bard beauty Behold BIRTH-DAY Cadenus call'd coffeehouse Countess of Suffolk court crown dame damn'd Dean Dean's dear death divine DR DELANY DR SWIFT Dublin duke Dunciad e'er ears EPIGRAM eyes face fair fame fancy fate favourite fill'd foes folly fools give goddess grace half head hear heart honour Ireland Jove king knaves lady learn'd learning Lord Lord Carteret madam maid mankind MARBLE HILL merit mind mortal Muse ne'er neighbour Neptune Nereids never night numbers nymph o'er Pallas poem poets poor Pope praise pride quadrille queen rage rais'd rhyme round satire scarce scene scorn shame shine sight sing Sir Robert Walpole soul spleen Stella Stephen Duck Strephon swear tell thee thou thought thousand town turn'd Twas twill Vanessa verse vex'd virtue whig wise writ write
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Стр. 335 - Here shift the scene, to represent How those I love my death lament. Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay A week, and Arbuthnot a day. St. John himself will scarce forbear To bite his pen and drop a tear. The rest will give a shrug, and cry, " I'm sorry — but we all must die...
Стр. 338 - Without regarding private ends, Spent all his credit for his friends ; And only chose the wise and good ; No flatterers ; no allies in blood : But succour'd virtue in distress, And seldom fail'd of good success ; As numbers in their hearts must own, Who, but for him, had been unknown.
Стр. 299 - As jEsop would the world persuade ; He better understands his trade : Nor comes whene'er his lady whistles, But carries loads, and feeds on thistles. Our author's meaning, I presume, is A creature bipes et implumis ; Wherein the moralist design'd A compliment on human kind ; For here he owns, that now and then Beasts may degenerate into men.
Стр. 339 - LIBERTY was all his cry; for her he stood prepar'd to die; for her he boldly stood alone; for her he oft" expos'd his own. Two kingdoms, just as faction led, had set a price upon his head ; but not a traitor could be found, to sell him for six hundred pound. Had he...
Стр. 331 - Behold the fatal day arrive! How is the Dean? He's just alive. Now the departing prayer is read: He hardly breathes. The Dean is dead.
Стр. 470 - As fine as daubers' hands can make it, In hopes that strangers may mistake it, We think it both a shame and sin To quit the true old Angel Inn.
Стр. 54 - Dame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a Loss I have had? Nay, said she, my Lord Col/way's Folks are all very sad; For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail; Pugh! said I, but that's not the Business that I ail.
Стр. 84 - No hurt shall come to you or yours : Uut for that pack of churlish boors, Not fit to live on Christian ground, They and their houses shall be drown'd; While you shall see your cottage rise, And grow a church before your eyes.
Стр. 88 - what's this you tell us? I hope you don't believe me jealous! But yet, methinks, I feel it true, And really yours is budding too — Nay, — now I cannot stir my foot; It feels as if 'twere taking root.
Стр. 297 - Though hard to find in every case The fittest man to fill a place: His promises he ne'er forgot, But took memorials on the spot; His enemies, for want of charity, Said, he affected popularity: 'Tis true, the people understood, That all he did was for their good; Their kind affections he has tried; No love is lost on either side.