History of John Bull. Essays. Poetry

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J. Johnson, 1801
 

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Page 419 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 419 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Page 115 - Or roll the planets through the boundless sky. Some less refined, beneath the moon's pale light, Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, Or suck the mists in grosser air below, Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, Or...
Page 111 - The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, Proves the just victim of his royal rage.
Page 471 - Yes, she has one, I must aver; When all the world conspires to praise her, The woman's deaf, and does not hear.
Page 106 - Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost! How shall I then your helpless fame defend? 'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend! And shall this prize, th...
Page 418 - Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
Page 113 - Her great great grandsire wore about his neck, In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, Form'da vast buckle for his widow's gown: Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew, The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew; Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs, Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears. ) "Boast not my fall
Page 461 - HERE continueth to rot The Body of FRANCIS CHARTRES, Who with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY, and INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of life, PERSISTED, In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES, In the practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE; Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY; His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Page 418 - But each man's secret standard in his mind, That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness, This, who can gratify ? for who can guess * The bard whom pilfer'd pastorals renown, Who turns a Persian tale for half a crown, Just writes to make his barrenness appear, And strains from hard-bound brains eight lines a year...

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