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Acrostic Adelaide admirable Album Anna Matilda applause Arno bard Baviad Bell Bell's bird of night blue-stocking breast Canst critics Delia Crusca delight Della Crusca dicere Dunciad E'en Edwin envy fame fancy fate favour folly fool fustian genius gentle gentleman Greathead hæc hand head hear heart heaven honour hope horse-leech hour IMITATIONS Jerningham labours Laura Maria lays learned learned friend lines lyre Mæviad malignant Merry mihi mould mouse muse Nereids never Nightman nonsense NOTES numbers Nunc o'er Oracle Ovid panegyric Parsons Pasquin Piozzi pity poem poet poetical poor Pope praise quid quod reader rhyme ribaldry Robinson Satire scrib sense smile song sonnet soul strains sweet Tasker taste thee Thespis thing thou thought thro toil town trash Trojan horse truth Vaughan verse write Yenda
Strana 114 - I am turn'd to clay, Shall duly to her grave repair, And pluck the ragged moss away, And weeds that have
Strana 115 - I offer at thy shrine , Thy grave must then undecked remain, And all thy memory fade with mine. And can thy soft persuasive look, Thy voice that might with music vie, Thy air that every gazer took, Thy matchless eloquence of eye ; Thy spirits...
Strana 18 - tis sweet, To hear " That's HE !" from every one we meet : That's HE whom critic Bell declares divine, For whom the fair diurnal laurels twine; Whom magazines, reviews, conspire to praise And Greathead calls the Homer of our days.
Strana 115 - I DID IT : and, would fate allow. Should visit still, should still deplore But health and strength have left me now, And I, alas ! can weep no more. Take then, sweet maid ! this simple strain, The last I offer at thy shrine ; Thy grave must then undeck'd remain, And all thy memory fade with mine. And can thy soft persuasive look...
Strana 34 - This has induced me to lay aside a second castigation which I had prepared for him, though I do not think it expedient to omit what I had formerly written. HERE on the rack of Satire let him lie, Fit garbage for the hell-hound Infamy.
Strana 112 - Lo ! while your buds prepare to blow, On icy pinions comes the blast, And nips your root, and lays you low. 'Alas, for such ungentle doom ! But I will shield you; and supply A kindlier soil on which to bloom, A nobler bed on which to die.
Strana 50 - Who made goose-pinions and white rags so dear. Yet Oldham, in his rude, unpolish'd strain, Could hiss the clamorous, and deride the vain, 305 Who bawl'd their rhymes incessant thro" the town, Or brib'd the hawkers for a day's renown.
Strana 49 - Come then, around their works a circle draw, And near it plant the dragons of the law ; With labels writ, " Critics far hence remove, Nor dare to censure what the great approve.