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admirable Album appeared applauſe Arno Baviad Bell breast critics Cruſca delight eſt fair fame fancy fate favour fear feel fire firſt folly fool genius gentle gentleman give given grace hæc hand happy head hear heart heaven himſelf honour hope hour ignorance IMITATIONS John known labours lady language laſt late Laura lays learned light mark Matilda merits morning moſt muſe muſt myſelf nature never NOTES o'er obſerve once Parſons poem poor powers praiſe preſent reader reaſon riſe round ſaid ſame ſay ſcarce ſee ſeems ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhould ſince ſome ſong ſoul ſtill ſtrains ſuch ſweet taken thee theſe thing thou thought thro town truth Vaughan verſe voice whoſe write written Yenda
Strana 116 - I am turn'd to clay, Shall duly to her grave repair, And pluck the ragged moss away, And weeds that have
Strana 117 - 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 20 - 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 117 - 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 36 - 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 114 - 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 52 - 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 51 - 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.