The Saunterer: A Periodical Paper ...

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Author, 1805 - 300 pages
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Page 247 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her/ What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have...
Page 270 - While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout in speckled pride, The salmon, monarch of the tide; The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Page 238 - To know the poet from the man of rhymes: Tis he, who gives my breast a thousand pains, Can make me feel each passion that he feigns; Enrage, compose, with more than magic art, With pity, and with terror, tear my heart; And snatch me, o'er the earth, or through the air, To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.
Page 217 - Sons, sires, and grandsires, all will wear the bays ; Our wives read Milton, and our daughters plays ; To theatres and to rehearsals throng, And all our grace at table is a song. I, who so oft renounce the Muses, lie : Not **'s self e'er tells more fibs than I.
Page 270 - While, lightly pois'd, the fcaly brood In myriads cleave thy cryftal flood ; The fpringing trout in fpeckled pride ; The falmon, monarch of the tide ; The ruthlefs pike, intent on war; The filver eel, and motled par *. Devolving from thy parent lake, • A charming maze thy waters make, By bowVs of birch, and groves of pine.
Page 160 - em, and betwixt his grinders caught. Unlike in method, with conceal'd design, Did crafty Horace his low numbers join : And, with a sly insinuating grace, Laugh'd at his friend, and look'd him in the face: Would raise a blush, where secret vice he found ; And tickle, while he gently prob'd the wound. With seeming innocence the crowd beguil'd ; But made the desperate passes, when he smil'd.
Page 275 - To eafe and f1lence, ev'ry Mufe's fon : Blackmore himfelf, for any grand effort, Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's-Court. How fhall I rhyme in this eternal roar ? 114 How match the bards whom none e'er match'd before? 1 The man, who ftretch'd in Ifis' calm retreat, To books and ftudy gives fev'n years complete.
Page 271 - And night hath loft her fweet repofe : Yet who, alas ! like me was bleft, To others ere thy charms were known ; When fancy told my raptur'd breaft, That Cynthia fmil'd on me alone .' Nymph of my foul ! forgive my fighs ; Forgive the jealous fires I feel ; Nor blame the trembling wretch who dies When others to thy beauties kneel. Lo ! theirs is every winning art, With Fortune's gifts unknown to me...
Page 268 - Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet fleep. The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn, The fwallow twitt'ring from the ftraw-built fhed, The cock's fhrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more fhall roufe them from their lowly bed.
Page 270 - May numerous herds and flocks be seen : And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds piping in the dale ; And ancient faith that knows no guile, And industry embrown'd with toil ; And hearts resolved and hands prepared The blessings they enjoy to guard 1 [S

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