The Works of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin, 6. köideC. Bathurst, C. Davis, C. Hitch and L. Hawes, J. Hodges, R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Bowyer., 1754 |
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Page 77
... with a great deal of pains ; When he found a new help from invi- fible hand . Then good doctor Swift , Pay thanks for the gift , For you freely must own you were at a dead lift : And And , though some malicious young spirit did do't ,
... with a great deal of pains ; When he found a new help from invi- fible hand . Then good doctor Swift , Pay thanks for the gift , For you freely must own you were at a dead lift : And And , though some malicious young spirit did do't ,
Page 105
... pain We form'd this name , renown'd in rhyme : Not thine , immortal Neufgermain ! Coft ftudious cabalifts more time , Yet now , as then , you all declare , Far hence to Egypt you'll repair , And turn strange hi'roglyphicks there ...
... pain We form'd this name , renown'd in rhyme : Not thine , immortal Neufgermain ! Coft ftudious cabalifts more time , Yet now , as then , you all declare , Far hence to Egypt you'll repair , And turn strange hi'roglyphicks there ...
Page 121
... Pains , reading , ftudy , are their just pretence ; And all they want is spirit , taste , and sense . Commas and points they fet exactly right ; And ' twere a fin to rob them of their mite :, Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel grac'd those ...
... Pains , reading , ftudy , are their just pretence ; And all they want is spirit , taste , and sense . Commas and points they fet exactly right ; And ' twere a fin to rob them of their mite :, Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel grac'd those ...
Page 137
... pain , A thought came flowly from my brain , It coft me lord knows how much time To shape it into sense and rhyme : And , what was yet a greater curse , Long - thinking made my fancy worse . Forfaken by th ' inspiring nine , I waited at ...
... pain , A thought came flowly from my brain , It coft me lord knows how much time To shape it into sense and rhyme : And , what was yet a greater curse , Long - thinking made my fancy worse . Forfaken by th ' inspiring nine , I waited at ...
Page 143
... pain A mere contrivance of the brain , As atheists argue , to entice And fit their profelytes for vice , ( The only comfort they propofe , To have companions in their woes :) Grant this the cafe ; yet fure ' tis hard That virtue , ftil ...
... pain A mere contrivance of the brain , As atheists argue , to entice And fit their profelytes for vice , ( The only comfort they propofe , To have companions in their woes :) Grant this the cafe ; yet fure ' tis hard That virtue , ftil ...
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The Works of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin: Including ... Jonathan Swift,John Hawkesworth No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
Againſt Becauſe Befides beft beſt Cadenus cafe call'd cauſe cou'd countess of Burlington courſe dean DERMOT diff'rent duke Dunciad eaſe Epigram ev'ry eyes fafe faid fair fame fancy fatire feen fent feven fhall fhame fhew fhould fhow fide fince firft firſt fkies fome fools foon ftand ftill fuch fure fwear fweet grace Guife hath heart himſelf honour houfe houſe Jove juft juſt king lady laft laſt loft lord madam mafter mattadore mind Molly moſt mufe muft muſe muſt ne'er never nymph o'er Ovid paffion Pallas parfon paſs pleaſe pleaſure poet pow'r praiſe pride profe publick Quadrille raiſe reafon reft rhyme rife round ſay ſcarce ſcene ſhall ſhe Stella ſtill thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand turn'd Twas uſe Vaneſſa Verfes verſe virtue whig whofe whoſe wife wiſh wou'd
Popular passages
Page 128 - Tis but the funeral of the former year. Let joy or ease, let affluence or content, And the gay conscience of a life well spent, Calm every thought, inspirit every grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face. Let day improve on day, and year on year, Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear...
Page 129 - Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes; Those stars of this world are too good for the skies. ' But Chloe so lively, so easy, so fair — Her wit so genteel, without art, without care; When she comes in my way, the motion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again.
Page 284 - To fancy they could live a year ! I find you're but a stranger here. The Dean was famous in his time, And had a kind of knack at rhyme : His way of writing now is past ; The town has got a better taste. I keep no antiquated stuff, But spick and span I have enough.
Page 28 - He gathers all the parish there ; Points out the place of either yew, Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew ; Till once a parson of our town, To mend his barn, cut Baucis down ; At which, 'tis hard to be...
Page 28 - what's this you tell us ? I hope you don't believe me jealous ? But yet, methinks, I feel it true ; And really yours is budding too : — Nay — now I cannot stir my foot ; It feels as if 'twere taking root.
Page 245 - HERE continueth to rot The Body of FRANCIS CHARTRES, Who, with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY, and INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of Life, PERSISTED, In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES, In the Practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE, Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY : His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first, His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Page 7 - Cadenus many things had writ : Vanessa much esteem'd his wit, And call'd for his poetic works : Meantime the boy in secret lurks ; And, while the book was in her hand, The urchin from his private stand Took aim, and shot with all his strength A dart of such prodigious length, It pierc'd the feeble volume through, And deep transfix'd her bosom too.
Page 23 - Having through all the village past, To a small cottage came at last, Where dwelt a good old honest ye'man, Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon ; Who kindly did these saints invite In his poor hut to pass the night ; And then the hospitable...
Page 283 - tis a shocking sight, And he's engaged to-morrow night; My Lady Club will take it ill, If he should fail her at quadrille. He loved the Dean— (I lead a heart,) But dearest friends, they say, must part. His time was come: he ran his race; We hope he's in a better place.
Page 282 - I'm sorry; but we all must die. Indifference clad in Wisdom's Guise, All Fortitude of Mind supplies: For how can stony Bowels melt, In those who never Pity felt; When We are lash'd, They kiss the Rod; Resigning to the Will of God.