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admire BAVIUS beauties beer better brain bright bring court dear death drink dull e'er EPIGRAM ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fear fenfe fhall fhine fhould fight fing fire flow fome foon foul ftill fuch fure gave give grave Grub Grubftreet Journal half hands happy head heart heav'n hence honour hope JOHN juft keep kind lady laft late learned light lines live lord mind mufe muft nature ne'er never night o'er once pain plain pleaſe poet poor praiſe printed round royal Shilling tell thee thefe theſe things thofe thoſe thou thought true turn verfe virtue whofe whole wine write young
Page 171 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Page 143 - Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with fcornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caus'd himfelf to rife ; Damn with faint praife, aflent with civil leer, • And, without fneering, teach the reft to fneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to ftrike...
Page 142 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 7 - Poets lays, Due to his merit, and brave thirst of praise Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie Her works ; and dying, fears herself may die.
Page 43 - Content with fcience in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feaft rofe fatisfy'd, Thank'd heaven that he had liv'd, and that he dy'd.
Page 142 - And he, who now to fenfe, now nonfenfe leaning, Means not, but blunders round about a meaning : And he, whofe Fuftian's fo fublimely bad, It is not Poetry, but Profe run mad...
Page 43 - A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and great: Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; From nature's temperate feast rose satisfied, Thank'd Heaven that he had lived, and that he died.
Page 142 - Shakespeare's name ; Pretty, in Amber to observe the forms Of Hairs, or Straws, or Dirt, or Grubs, or Worms : The Thing, we know, is neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the Devil it got there.
Page 16 - E'er the first ends, the Father and the Son : Or else so needful, and exactly grac'd, That nothing is ill-suited, or ill-plac'd. True Epic's a vast World, and this a small; One has its proper beauties, and one all. Like Cynthia, one in thirty days appears, Like Saturn one, rolls round in thirty years.