The Poetical Note-book and Epigrammatic Museum: Containing More Than One Thousand Choice Epigrams, Fanciful Inscriptons, and Poetical MorceauxA. Robertson, 1824 - 383 pages |
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Results 6-10 of 18
Page 54
... t'other day , she stole my heart . Cupid ! if lovers are thy care , Revenge thy vot'ry on this fair ; Do justice on her stolen charms , And let her prison be - my arms . THE HORRORS OF WAR . From the Carnival of Death , a Poem ...
... t'other day , she stole my heart . Cupid ! if lovers are thy care , Revenge thy vot'ry on this fair ; Do justice on her stolen charms , And let her prison be - my arms . THE HORRORS OF WAR . From the Carnival of Death , a Poem ...
Page 68
... fiddle - stick . THE OATH . " Do you now , " says Fanny t'other day , " In earnest love me as you say ? " Or are these tender words applied , " Alike to fifty girls beside ? " " Ten guineas ! for what ? " says the 68 THE POETICAL.
... fiddle - stick . THE OATH . " Do you now , " says Fanny t'other day , " In earnest love me as you say ? " Or are these tender words applied , " Alike to fifty girls beside ? " " Ten guineas ! for what ? " says the 68 THE POETICAL.
Page 157
... other's was ' yclep'd an auctioneer : Mistakes to end , their school - fellows so knowing , Call'd the one , quaintly , coming , t'other going . Р A DRUNKARD'S SAVING CLAUSE . Dick , often drunk , NOTE BOOK . 157 A NEW JURY. ...
... other's was ' yclep'd an auctioneer : Mistakes to end , their school - fellows so knowing , Call'd the one , quaintly , coming , t'other going . Р A DRUNKARD'S SAVING CLAUSE . Dick , often drunk , NOTE BOOK . 157 A NEW JURY. ...
Page 174
... t'other , No doubt she's looking for a constant man . DEFENDER OF THE FAITH . By the same . DEFENDER of the Faith ! the sage must smile , And sceptic sneer , who hears the pious style . Defender of the Truth ! a style would be Fit for a ...
... t'other , No doubt she's looking for a constant man . DEFENDER OF THE FAITH . By the same . DEFENDER of the Faith ! the sage must smile , And sceptic sneer , who hears the pious style . Defender of the Truth ! a style would be Fit for a ...
Page 176
... t'other , " His name is Nokes . " - " Stiles , I say , d - me bro- ther , " " Dear friends , compound the matter , " says the devil , " I'll fit you both , provided you are civil ; My right to interfere from hence you'll gather , You're ...
... t'other , " His name is Nokes . " - " Stiles , I say , d - me bro- ther , " " Dear friends , compound the matter , " says the devil , " I'll fit you both , provided you are civil ; My right to interfere from hence you'll gather , You're ...
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Common terms and phrases
æther Age of Bronze Alderman Ann Drew beauty bless blest bliss breast breath charms COVENT GARDEN THEATRE cried dance David Garrick dear death devil Dick doctor e'er earth epigram ev'ry face fair fame fate flower following lines fool Garrick George King give glass gold grace grave happy heart heaven KENSINGTON GARDENS King kiss knave LADY light lips live look'd Lord Lord Byron lov'd lovers maid MARRIAGE marry Metastasio mind Miss ne'er never night o'er once pain Pindar pity pleasure Poet poor pow'r pray pride Prince Hohenlohe quoth replied Richard Flecknoe rose round shew sigh sleep smile sorrow soul sure sweet t'other tears tell termagant thee there's thing thou thought thro to-morrow tongue true Twas twill verses Whilst wife wise youth Zounds
Popular passages
Page 217 - And all things weigh'd in custom's falsest scale ; Opinion an omnipotence, — whose veil Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright, And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light.
Page 149 - My prime of youth is but a frost of cares; My feast of joy is but a dish of pain; My crop of corn is but a field of tares; And all my good is but vain hope of gain; The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun; And now I live, and now my life is done!
Page 241 - An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? " Art thou a man — a patriot ? look around, O thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
Page 105 - When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes: Compounds a medley of disjointed things, A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings: Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad: Both are the reasonable soul run mad: And many monstrous forms in sleep we see, That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be.
Page 42 - On a Girdle That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair! Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round!
Page 241 - Touched by remembrance trembles to that pole ; For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Page 230 - Eternal HOPE ! when yonder spheres sublime Peal'd their first notes to sound the march of Time, Thy joyous youth began — but not to fade. — When all the sister planets have...
Page 228 - THEY tell us of an Indian' tree, Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to> wander free, And shoot, and blossom, wide- and high, Far better loves to bend its arms Downward again to that dear earth, From which the life, that fills and warms Its grateful being, first had births.. 'Tis thus, though woo'd by flattering friends, And fed with fame (if fame it be) This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee I LOVE AND HYMEN.
Page 218 - Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopp'd by the axe, looks rough and little worth, But the sap lasts, — and still the seed we find Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North; So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.
Page 218 - Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind ; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, Chopp'd by the axe, looks rough and little worth ; But the sap lasts, — and still the seed we find Sown deep , even in the bosom of the north : So shall...