The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 29

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Samuel Johnson
C. Bathurst, 1779
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Page 35 - Such idle themes no more can move, Nor any thing but what's of high import : And what's of high import, but love £ Vervain and gums, and the green turf prepare ; With wine of two years old your cups be fill'd : After our facrifice and prayer, The goddefs may incline her heart to yield.
Page 101 - Of Memory the Art But ah! how oft is human care in vain ! For, now he could not find his book again. The place where he had laid it he forgot, Nor could himself remember what he wrote.
Page 21 - To him preferibe, and fix each fated hour. This mighty rule to Time the Fates ordain, But yet to hard conditions bind his reign ; For...
Page 43 - Till Victory and Peace reftore Her faithful Lover to her tender Breaft, Within her folding Arms to reft, Thence never to be parted more, No never to be parted more.
Page 154 - But sometimes stoop'd to please a barbarous age : When his immortal bays began to grow Rude was the language, and the humour low ; He, like the God of day, was always bright, But rolling in its course, his orb of light Was sullied, and obscur'd, though soaring high, With spots contracted from the nether sky. But whither is the...
Page 43 - See! see, she wakes Sabina wakes! And now the sun begins to rise: Less glorious is the morn, that breaks From his bright beams, than her fair eyes. With light united day they give; But different fates ere night fulfil: How many by his warmth will live! How many will her coldness kill!
Page 127 - Unknown, and loft, far from my native Home. But I conjure you, by the Throne of Jove, By all that's dear to you, by all you love, By your good Parents, (for no bad, could e'er Produce a Son...
Page 131 - Till Jove at length, in Pity of his Grief, Difpatch'd \Argicides to his Relief; And more with Gifts to pacify his Mind, He fent him Horfes of a deathlefs kind, Whofe Feet outftript in Speed the rapid Wind.
Page 102 - Should hope and fear thy heart alternate tear, Or love, or hate, or rage, or anxious care, Whatever passions may thy mind infest, (Where...
Page 101 - To draw the Eye, or to allure the Heart, Poor were the Praife in Fortune to excel, Yet want the Way to ufe that Fortune well.

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