Other editions - View all
Apicius arms Art of Cookery beauty becauſe beft beſt bright Britiſh charms Cook cries defign defire difh diſh eaſe Ev'n eyes facred fafe faid fair fam'd fame fate fatire fear feas feek feem feen fenfe feven fhade fhall fhew fhould fighs filent filver fince fire firft firſt fkies flame fleep fmiling foft fome foon foul fprings freſh ftand ftill ftreams fubject fuch fure give Goddeſs grace hafte himſelf honour Jove juft juſt King laft laſt Latian lefs loft Love moft moſt muft muſt ne'er numbers nymph o'er occafion Orpheus Ovid paffion paſt perfons Phyficians pleafing pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure Poem Poets prefent purſue raiſe reaſon reign rife ſhall ſhe ſhow ſkies ſtand ſtate ſtay ſtill tell thefe themſelves theſe things thofe thoſe thou thouſand unleſs uſe verfe Vertumnus Whilft whofe Whoſe wife youth
Page 114 - How needless if you knew us, were your fears ? Let Love have eyes, and Beauty will have ears. Our hearts are form'd, as you...
Page 104 - Gentiles' great apostle's name, With grace divine great Anna's seen to rise, An awful form, that glads a nation's eyes. Beneath her feet four mighty realms appear, And with due reverence pay their homage there) Britain and Ireland seem to owe her grace, And e'en wild India wears a smiling face.
Page 149 - Or change our natures, or reform your laws. Unhappy partner of my killing pain, Think what I feel the moment you complain. Each figh you utter wounds my tendereft part, So much my lips mifreprefent my heart.
Page 131 - Oile'us forc'd the Trojan maid, Yet all were punish'd for the brutal deed. A storm begins, the raging waves run high, The clouds look heavy, and benight the sky; Red sheets of light'ning o'er the seas are spread, Our tackling yields, and wrecks at last succeed.
Page 229 - I take imitation of an author, in their sense, to be an endeavour of a later poet to write like one who has written before him, on the same subject : that is, not to translate his words, or to be confined to his sense, but only to set him as a pattern, and to write, as he supposes that author would have done, had he lived in our age, and in our country.
Page 192 - Valentine accosts his boy with these lines, which would draw tears from any thing that is not marble : " Hang up thy wallet on that tree, And creep thou in this hollow place with me ; Let's here repose our wearied limbs till they more wearied be ! Bor.
Page 164 - Clafficks, as if we were never to get higher than our Tully or our Virgil. You tantalize me only when you tell me of the edition of a book by the ingenious Dr. Lifter, which you fay is a treatife D« Candimenth et Ogfoniit yeterumt " Of the Sauces and Soups of the Ancients,
Page 114 - Even churches are no sanctuaries now : There, golden idols all your vows receive, She is no goddess that has nought to give.