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appears arms attend bear beauty beneath blood breast breath calls charms court creature cries death disgrace doubt ev'ry eyes FABLE face fair fame fate fear foes fool force gain give gold grace grant grow hand happy hate hath head hear heart heav'n honest honour hope hour Jove keep kind king knew known land leave light lines live look lost lover maid mean mind Molly morn nature ne'er never night o'er once pain plain play pleasure POLLY poor praise pride pursue race raise replied rest rise rose round says seen soul stand sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought toil tongue true truth turns Twas virtue wife wise woman youth
Seite 265 - Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms, William shall to his dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
Seite 375 - Not far from that most celebrated place, Where angry Justice shows her awful face ; Where little villains must submit to fate, That great ones may enjoy the world in state...
Seite 307 - How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear Charmer away!
Seite 113 - I'll read my fable. .Betwixt her swagging pannier's 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.
Seite 314 - POLLY. Hither, dear husband, turn your eyes. LUCY. Bestow one glance to cheer me. POLLY. Think, with that look, thy Polly dies. LUCY. Oh, shun me not— but hear me. POLLY. 'Tis Polly sues. LUCY. — 'Tis Lucy speaks. POLLY. Is thus true love requited?
Seite 135 - 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; a...
Seite 292 - Twelve months are gone and over, And nine long tedious days. Why didst thou, vent'rous lover, Why didst thou trust the seas? Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean, And let my lover rest: Ah! what's thy troubled motion To that within my breast? The merchant, robbed of pleasure, Sees tempests in despair; But what's the loss of treasure To losing of my dear?
Seite 51 - Thy fame is just, the sage replies ; Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. Pride often guides the author's pen ; Books as affected are as men : But he who studies nature's laws, From certain truth his maxims draws ; And those, without our schools, suffice To make men moral, good, and wise.