The Works of the English Poets: YoungH. Hughs, 1779 |
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becauſe bids bleffings blifs boaſt Book of Job breaſt bright Britain caft cauſe charms dare death defcend deſpair diftant divine dreadful earth eternal eyes facred fafe fair fame fate fatires fays fenfe fhall fhew fhine filence filks fince fing firſt fkies flame fmile folemn fome fons fool foon forrow foul ftill ftrain fublime fuch fupport fure fweet fwell fword glory grace heart heaven himſelf immortal juſt laft laſt lefs lord mankind meaſure mind moft moſt Mufe muft muſt night numbers nymphs o'er paffion pain pleaſe pleaſure praiſe pride profe proud purſue rage raiſe reafon rife riſe Satire ſcene ſee ſeen ſhade ſhake ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhould ſkies ſky ſmile ſpread ſtand ſtate ſtill ſtorm ſtrong tempeft thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand throne thunders trembling triumph virtue Whofe Whoſe wife wiſdom worfe
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Стр. 24 - How empty learning, and how vain is art, But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!
Стр. 83 - The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
Стр. 112 - As if their grandeur, by contagion, wrought, And fame was, like a fever, to be caught: But after seven years dance from place to place, The Dane is more familiar with his Grace.
Стр. 130 - Charm'd with her learning, with what rapture he Hangs on her bloom, like an industrious bee ; Hums round about her, and with all his power Extracts sweet wisdom from so fair a. flower...
Стр. 97 - Though prone to like, yet cautious to commend, You read with all the malice of a friend ; Nor favour my attempts that way alone, But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own. An...
Стр. 105 - tis glorious to offend, And godlike an attempt the world to mend; The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall, Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all.
Стр. 153 - Methinks, we need not our short being shun, And, thought to fly, contend to be undone. We need not buy our ruin with our crime, And give eternity to murder time.
Стр. 96 - I'm nearer death in this verse than the last : What then is to be done ? be wise with speed : A fool at forty is a fool indeed. And what so foolish as the chase of fame ? How vain the prize ? how impotent our aim ? For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise, and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour ? LOVE OF FAME, Va SATIRE III.
Стр. 31 - At the great day of recompense behold, Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold ! Then wafted upward to the blissful seat, From age to age, my grateful song repeat ; My light, my life, my God, my Saviour see, And rival angels in the praise of thee.
Стр. 96 - I'll conjure thus some profit out of thee. O THOU myself! abroad our counsels roam, And, like ill husbands, take no care at home : Thou too art wounded with the common dart, And Love of Fame lies throbbing at thy heart; And what wise means to gain it hast thou chose?