The British Poets: Including Translations ...

الغلاف الأمامي
C. Whittingham, 1822

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الصفحة 187 - Boxed in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits; And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds; he trembles from within. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, Pregnant with Greeks, impatient to be freed, (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do, Instead of paying chairmen, run them through), Laocoon struck the outside with his spear, And each imprisoned hero quaked for fear...
الصفحة 153 - He made them weep before he died. Come hither, all ye empty things ! Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings ! Who float upon the tide of state ; Come hither, and behold your fate ! Let Pride be taught by this rebuke, How very mean a thing's a duke ; From all his ill-got honours flung, Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung.
الصفحة 158 - As fine as dauber's hands can make it, In hopes that strangers may mistake it, We think it both a shame and sin To quit the true old Angel Inn.
الصفحة 160 - Thou, Stella, wert no longer young, When first for thee my harp was strung, Without one word of Cupid's darts, Of killing eyes, or bleeding hearts ; With friendship and esteem possest, I ne'er admitted Love a guest.
الصفحة 194 - Be satisfied, I'll do my best:'— Then presently he falls to tease, - * ' You may for certain, if you please; I doubt not, if his lordship knew— And, Mr. Dean, one word from you...
الصفحة 179 - Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind, And, forming you, mistook your kind ? No ; 'twas for you alone he stole The fire that forms a manly soul ; Then, to complete it every way, He moulded it with female clay : To that you owe the nobler flame, To this the beauty of your frame.
الصفحة 202 - THOSK dreams, that on the silent night intrude, And with false flitting shades our minds delude, Jove never sends us downward from the skies : Nor can they from infernal mansions rise ; But are all mere productions of the brain, And fools consult interpreters in vain.
الصفحة 186 - Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was dust. Ah ! where must needy poet seek for aid, When dust and rain at once his coat invade...
الصفحة 151 - Were forced to own to him their obligation. He that could once have half a kingdom bought, In half a minute is not worth a groat. His coffers from the coffin could not save, Nor all his interest keep him from the grave.
الصفحة 195 - My choicest hours of life are lost; Yet always wishing to retreat, Oh, could I see my country seat ! There leaning near a gentle brook, Sleep, or peruse some ancient book, And there in sweet oblivion drown Those cares that haunt the court and town.

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