The Poetical Works of John Gay: In Three Volumes. Collated with the Best Editions:

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Printed at the Stanhope Press, by Charles Whittingham, ... for J. Sharpe, 1808
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Page 2 - From nature too I take my rule, To shun contempt and ridicule. I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. Can grave and formal pass for wise, When men the solemn owl despise? My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much, must talk in vain.
Page 86 - of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler passed you by ; How strong are those, how weak am I ! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then. You know my heart. But dearest friends, alas ! must part ! How shall we all lament : Adieu ! For see, the hounds are just in view.
Page 2 - The daily labours of the bee Awake my soul to industry : Who can observe the careful ant, And not provide for future want ? My dog (the trustiest of his kind) With gratitude inflames my mind : I mark his true, his faithful way, And in my service copy Tray. In constancy and nuptial love, I learn my duty from the dove. The hen, who from the .chilly air, With pious wing, protects her care, And every fowl that flies at large, Instructs me in a parent's charge.
Page 84 - Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies* She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures...
Page 64 - I'll read my Fable." Betwixt her swagging panniers' load A Farmer's Wife to market rode, And, jogging on, with thoughtful care, Summ'd up the profits of her ware ; When, starting from her silver dream, Thus far and wide was heard her scream. " That Raven on yon left-hand oak (Curse on his ill-betiding croak !) Bodes me no good.
Page 85 - She next the stately Bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord. "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend, To take the freedom of a friend; Love calls me hence...
Page 64 - Alas! you know the cause too well: The salt is spilt, to me it fell. Then, to contribute to my loss, My knife and fork were laid across; On Friday too! the day I dread! Would I were safe at home in bed! Last night (I vow to heaven 'tis true) Bounce from the fire a coffin flew. Next post some fatal news shall tell, God send my Cornish friends be well!
Page 116 - This lady-fly I take from off the grass, Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass: ' Fly, lady-bird, North, South, or East, or West, Fly where the man is found that I love best.
Page 73 - Tis conquest to assert your right. How cumb'rous is the gilded coach! The pride of man is our reproach. Were we...
Page 114 - Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rising bank I sat adown...

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