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A Commonplace Book of Epigrams: Analytically Arranged
Charles Stokes Carey
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2014
A Commonplace Book of Epigrams Analytically Arranged
Charles Stokes Carey
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016
Author beauty better BOOK Careless cause CHARLES charms cried Crown 8vo dear death doctor doubt drink earth Edition EPIGRAMS eyes face fair fame fate fear fire folly fool French gave George give grace Greek hand head hear heart HISTORY hope ILLUSTRATED John Justice kind king kiss LADY late leave lies live look LORD Martial mean meet mind nature ne'er never o'er once picture pity play poet poor praise pray Price prove Punch quoth raise reason replied rich rose round smile soon speak steal sure sweet talk tears tell thee there's thing thou thought took true twas Venus whole wife wise wish wonder worse write young
Seite 73 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Seite 65 - THREE poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of nature could no further go ; To make a third, she joined the former two.
Seite 212 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Seite 73 - Shakspearc and Milton, like gods in the fight, Have put their whole drama and epic to flight ; In satires, epistles, and odes, would they cope. Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope ; And Johnson, well arm'd like a hero of yore, Has beat forty French, \ and will beat forty more...
Seite 138 - But now, her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead, — Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent Street well may say, That had she lived a twelvemonth more — She had not died to-day.
Seite 53 - In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen, about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
Seite 148 - What can the cause be, when the king hath given His poet sack, the household will not pay? Are they so scanted in their store? — or driven For want of knowing the poet, to say him nay? Well, they should know him, would the king but grant His poet leave to sing his household true...