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, 4. kötet

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John Almon
J. Debrett, 1784
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155. oldal - SWEET maid, if thou would'st charm my sight, And bid these arms thy neck infold ; That rosy cheek, that lily hand, • Would give thy poet more delight Than all Bocara's vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand.
156. oldal - Speak not of fate : ah ! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom : 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.
96. oldal - Chatillon, on her bridal morn That wept her bleeding Love, and princely Clare, And Anjou's heroine, and the paler rose, The rival of her crown and of her woes, And either Henry there, The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord That broke the bonds of Rome.
97. oldal - But hark ! the portals sound, and pacing forth With solemn steps and slow, High potentates, and dames of royal birth, And mitred fathers in long order go : Great Edward, with the lilies on his brow From haughty Gallia torn.
97. oldal - Anjou's heroine, and the paler Rose, The rival of her crown and of her woes, And either Henry there, The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord, That broke the bonds of Rome. (Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, Their human passions now no more, Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb.) All that on Granta's fruitful plain Rich streams of regal bounty pour'd, And bade these awful fanes and turrets rise...
29. oldal - With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright.
15. oldal - So have I feen the Tory race Long in the pouts for want of place, Never in humour, never well, Wifhing for what they dar'd not tell, Their heads with country-notions fraughtf Notions in town not worth a groat, Thefe tenets all reluctant quit, And ftep by ftep at laft fubmit To reafon, eloquence, and PITT.
102. oldal - Through the wild waves as they roar, With watchful eye and dauntlefs mien, Thy fteady courfe of honour keep, Nor fear the rocks, nor feek the fhore : The ftar of Brunfwick fmiles ferene, And gilds the horrors of the deep.
25. oldal - Neither in person nor in coin; Yet contemplation is a thing That renders what I have not, mine: My king from me what adamant can part, Whom I do wear engraven on my heart!
15. oldal - That foon fhe gives him, when he pleafes : Her ruby lips he next attacks :— She ftruggles ; — in a while fhe fmacks : Her fnowy breaft he then invades ; — That yields too after fome parades ; And of that fortrefs once pofleft, He quickly mafters all the reft.

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