The English Humourists of the Eighteenth CenturyA.C. McClurg, 1893 - 266 pages |
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A. C. MCCLURG Addison admiration Æsop Bagnio beautiful began called Captain Coote character charming coffee-houses Congreve Court daughter daylight streaming Dean delightful Dick Steele dinner Doctor drink Dublin Dunciad English eyes face famous fancy fond fortune genius gentleman Goldsmith Gulliver hand Harry Fielding heart hero Hogarth honest honor humor humorist John John Dennis John Gay Johnson Jones Joseph Addison kind King lady laugh letters literary lived London look Lord manly MATTHEW PRIOR Moor Park moral morning nature never night noble passed periwig Pipe pity pleasure poem poet poor Pope Pope's portrait pretty Rake's Progress ROGER STERNE Saint satire says scorn singing smile society speak Stella Sterne story sweet Swift Tatler tender thee tion Tom Jones took trainbands truth Tyburn verses wife woman wonderful wretched writing wrote young youth
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Page 165 - Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause ; While wits and templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise ; Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? Who would not weep if Atticus were he?
Page 125 - I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion ; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow: when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions and debates of mankind.
Page 33 - That the remaining hundred thousand may at a year old be offered in sale to the persons of quality, and fortune, through the kingdom, always advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month, so as to render them plump, and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainment for friends, and when the family dines alone, the fore or hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially...
Page 179 - She comes ! she comes ! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old ! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sickening stars fade off the ethereal plain ; As Argus
Page 143 - The god of us verse-men (you know, child), the sun, How after his journeys he sets up his rest: If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run ; At night he declines on his Thetis's breast.
Page 179 - Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word; Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall, And universal Darkness buries all.
Page 256 - But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending Virtue's friend; Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, While Resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past.
Page 124 - When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies within me ; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out ; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion ; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow.
Page 84 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Page 85 - Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball? What though no real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found? In reason's ear they all rejoice And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing as they shine, " The hand that made us is divine.