A select collection of poems: with notes [by J. Nichols].


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Página 180 - And for the queen a fitting bower (Quoth he) is that fair cowslip flower On Hipcut hill that groweth. In all your train there's not a fay That ever went to gather may But she hath made it in her way, The tallest there that groweth.
Página 185 - He to this folly drew her." Quoth Puck, " My liege, I'll never lin, But I will thorough thick and thin, Until at length I bring her in, My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it.
Página 182 - For hedge nor ditch they spared not, But after her they hie them ; A cobweb over them they throw, To shield the wind if it should blow ; Themselves they wisely could bestow Lest any should espy them.
Página 181 - Which for the colours did excel, The fair Queen Mab becoming well, So lively was the limning; The seat the soft wool of the bee, The cover, gallantly to see, The wing of a pied butterflee; I trow 'twas simple trimming. The wheels composed of crickets...
Página 170 - Beauty and wit strove, each in vain, To vanquish Bacchus and his train ; But Barton with successful charms, From both their quivers drew her arms. The roving God his sway resigns, And awfully submits his vines.
Página 208 - S no irregular defire, •" No fudden ftart of raging pain, Which in a moment grows a fire, And in a moment cools again. Not found in the...
Página 194 - Twixt head and foot, from point to point, He told the arming of each joint, In every piece how neat and quaint, For Tomalin could do it : How fair he sat, how sure he rid, As of the courser he bestrid, How...
Página 184 - Thought surely they had all been dead ; So fearful was the jumbling. And falling down into a lake, Which him up to the neck doth take. His fury somewhat it doth slake ; He calleth for a ferry ; Where you may some recovery note, What was his club he made his boat, And in his oaken cup doth float, As safe as in a wherry. Men talk of the adventures strange Of Don...
Página 313 - The deep, majeftic, folemn organs, blow. Hark ! the numbers, foft and clear, Gently fteal upon the ear ; Now louder, and yet louder rife, And fill with fpreading founds the...
Página 300 - His anecdote was received in silence ; and after inquiring, to no purpose, ' Why nobody laughed ?' he departed in anger. ' Rochester,' says Mr. Forster, 'observed of Shadwell, that if he had burnt all he wrote, and printed all he spoke, he would have had more wit and humour than any other poet ; and measuring Goldsmith by Shadwell, we may rest perfectly satisfied with the relative accomplishments and deficiencies of each.

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