The Poetical Works of John Gay, Band 2

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Lawrence and Bullen: New York, C. Scribner's sons, 1893
 

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Seite 263 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ! Tell me, ye jovial sailors ! tell me true, If my sweet William sails among the crew.
Seite 264 - The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosom spread, No longer must she stay aboard ; They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land ; 'Adieu!
Seite 375 - Content thyself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.
Seite 264 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Seite 307 - How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear Charmer away!
Seite 264 - ... off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. ' Believe not what the landmen say Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In every port a mistress find: Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
Seite 292 - Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring All on a rock reclined.
Seite 137 - And from the deep-mouth'd 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 back her mazy round, Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appear'd in view ! " Let me (says she) your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend.
Seite 75 - And man, that was his terror, scorns. Such is the country maiden's fright, When first a red-coat is in sight ; Behind the door she hides her face ; Next time at distance eyes the lace ; 30 She now can all his terrors stand, Nor from his squeeze withdraws her hand.
Seite 114 - 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...

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