The Works, of the Right Honourable Sir Chas. Hanbury Williams ...: From the Originals in the Possession of His Grandson the Right Hon. the Earl of Essex [and Others], Band 3
E. Jeffery and son, 1822
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army assembly baroness behold Birt bishop Boleslaus brother Hanbury called Casimir Charles Christian church Coldbrook court Cracow crown of Poland daughter DEAR SIR death declared Derry desire died Diet Dresden duchies duke of Glogau duke of Oppelen election Emperor ended England entered Poland favour favourite give Gnesna Gotha Government of Poland HANBURY WILLIAMS Hanover head Hedwigis historian House of Holsendorf imperial Jews Kheichlin king of Bohemia king of Hungary king of Poland king's kingdom of Poland Kit Bond lady Lechus letter Lewis Lithuanians Lord marquis of Brandenburgh Massovia Miesceslaus minister never night numbers obliged ordered palace Peer person Piast Poles Polish Pomerellia Pope Popiel possession prelates and barons prince of Meinungen Przemislaus reign Rzepica seized sent serene highness Servant Silesia soon sovereign Stanislaus tell Teutonic knights Teutonic Order Thee thou throne Uladislaus unto whole wife
Seite 41 - When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the kingdom of heaven to all believers. Thou sittest at the right hand of God in the glory of the Father. We believe that thou shalt come to be our Judge.
Seite 113 - m able. A young vain female Crow, Had perch'd upon a pine tree's bough, And sitting there at ease, Was going to indulge her taste, In a most delicious feast, Consisting of a slice of cheese. A sharp-set Fox (a wily creature) Pass'd by that way In search of prey ; When to his nose the smell of cheese...
Seite 42 - Thou hast done us. And confine them to their turnips for ever. Day by day we sing ballads unto Thee. And we bawl against Hanover, ever world without end. Vouchsafe O King, to keep us this year without thy Hanoverians. The Lord have Mercy upon us ; the Lord have Mercy upon us. O King let thy Mercy lighten our taxes, as our Credit should be in Thee.
Seite 2 - Amongst the daily, weekly, monthly wits. Content if some few friends indulge my name, So slightly am I stung with love of fame, I would not scrawl one hundred idle lines — Not for the praise of all the magazines. Yet once a moon, perhaps, I steal a night; And, if our sire Apollo pleases, write.
Seite 40 - WE complain of Thee, O King, we acknowledge Thee to be an Hanoverian. All Hungary doth worship Thee, the Captain Everlasting. To Thee all Placemen cry aloud, the House of Lords, and all the Courtiers therein. To Thee Carteret and Bath continually do cry, Warlike, warlike, warlike Captain General, of the Armies ! Brunswick and Lunenburgh are full of the brightness of our coin. The venal company of Peers praise Thee. The goodly fellowship of Ministers praise Thee. The noble Army of Hanoverians praise...
Seite 5 - The first enjoyment of the generous breast, Is to behold in man's obnoxious state Scenes of content and happy turns of fate. Fair views of nature, shining works of art, Amuse the fancy : but those touch the heart. Chiefly for this proud epic song delights, For this some riot on th
Seite 42 - King, spare thy people of England. And now squeeze thy people of Hanover. Govern them as Thou hast governed us, And confine them to their turnips for ever. Day by day we sing ballads unto Thee. And we bawl against Hanover, ever world without end. Vouchsafe, O King, to keep us this year without thy Hanoverians. The Lord have mercy upon us...
Seite 3 - Tis chiefly taste, or blunt, or gross, or fine, Makes life insipid, bestial, or divine. Better be born with taste to little rent, Than the dull monarch of a continent.
Seite 3 - Despised and hated, how he bears to live. With honest warmth of heart, with some degree Of pity that such wretched things should be, You scorn the sordid knave — He grins at you, And deems himself the wiser of the two. — 'Tis all but taste, howe'er we sift the case ; 40 He has his joy, as every creature has.
Seite 2 - Goths, that stare astonished at their verse; To the rank tribes submit their virgin lays : So gross, so bestial, is the lust of praise! I to sound judges from the mob appeal, And write to those who most my subject feel. Eumenes, these dry moral lines I trust With you, whom naught that 's moral can disgust.