Moral and Political Dialogues: With Letters on Chivalry and Romance, Volume 1

Couverture
T. Cadell, 1776
 

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Page 117 - Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is, in suing long to bide: To lose good days, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed today, to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 133 - Ah ! wanton foe, dost thou upbraid The ills which thou thyself hast made ? When in the cradle innocent I lay, Thou, wicked spirit, stolest me away, And my abused soul didst bear Into thy new-found worlds, I know not where...
Page 89 - Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head : And this our life, exempt from publick haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.
Page 135 - Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be So distant, they may reach at length to me. However, of all Princes, thou...
Page 190 - I'll have Italian masks by night, Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows; And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
Page 130 - Thy foolish gains by quitting me: The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty, The fruits of thy unlearn'd apostasy. Thou thought'st, if once the public storm were past, All thy remaining life should sun-shine be; Behold, the public storm is spent at last, The sovereign is tost at sea no more, And thou, with all the noble company, Art got at last to shore.
Page 128 - A wondrous hieroglyphick robe she wore, In which all colours and all figures were, That nature or that fancy can create, That art can never imitate; And with loose pride it wanton'd in the air. In such a dress, in such a well-cloth'd dream, She us'd, of old, near fair Ismenus' stream, Pindar, her Theban favourite, to meet ; A crown was on her head, and wings were on her feet.
Page 131 - As a fair morning of the blessed spring, After a tedious stormy night, Such was the glorious entry of our king; Enriching...
Page 129 - Art thou return'd here, to repent too late ? And gather hufks of learning up at laft, Now the rich harveft-time of life is paft, And winter marches on fo faft ? But, when I meant t...
Page 134 - The heaven under which I live is fair, The fertile soil will a full harvest bear : Thine, thine is all the barrenness ; if thou...

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