The New Foundling Hospital for Wit: Being a Collection of Fugitive Pieces, in Prose and Verse, Not in Any Other Collection. With Several Pieces Never Before Published, Band 3

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1786
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Seite 292 - In forest, brake or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; These constitute a State; And sovereign law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Seite 311 - And balmy from the bank of flowers The Zephyr breathes along ; Let no rude sound invade from far, No vagrant foot be nigh, No ray from Grandeur's gilded car Flash on the startled eye. " But if some pilgrim through the glade Thy...
Seite 241 - ... sight of all the spectators, and sings in it: during his stay in the bottle, any person may handle it, and see plainly that it does not exceed a common tavern bottle.
Seite 310 - Twas then, O Solitude, to thee His early vows were paid, From heart sincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade. Ah why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam, Remote from all congenial joy !— O take the Wanderer home.
Seite 105 - Sir Thomas Stapleton, Paul Whitehead, Mr. Wilkes, and other gentlemen to the number of twelve, rented the Abbey, and often retired there in the fummer. Among other amufements they had...
Seite 67 - Daphne to fhun me grew into a laurel, With the fex I have fworn ftill to keep up the quarrel. I thought it all joke, 'till by writing to you, I have prov'd his refentment, alas ! but too true. Sir CHARLE S's REPLY.
Seite 9 - Each hour a different face he wears, Now in a fury, now in tears, Now laughing, now in sorrow ; Now he'll command, and now obey, Bellows for liberty to-day, And roars for power to-morrow.
Seite 309 - To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, Scap'da tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats I fly. Deep in your most sequester'd bower Let me at last recline, Where Solitude, mild, modest Power, Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
Seite 59 - In height of song, in beauty's pride, By fell Grimalkin's claws he died— But vengeance shall have way. On pains and tortures I'll refine ; Yet, Matzel, that one death of thine His nine will ill repay.
Seite 16 - To enroll the fair deeds of his youth ! When you mention the acts of his age, Leave a blank for his honour and truth ! 245 Say, he made a great monarch change hands : He spake — and the minister fell.

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