The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 12

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Samuel Johnson
C. Bathurst, 1779
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Page 277 - That a lover forsaken A new love may get, But a neck, when once broken, Can never be set: And, that he could die Whenever he would, But, that he could live But as long as he could: How grievous soever The torment might grow, He scorn'd to endeavour To finish it so. But bold, unconcern'd At thoughts of the pain, He calmly return'd To his cottage again.
Page 264 - Throne, Reftrain'd by nothing but their Will alone) Here can cry up, and there as boldly blame, And, as they pleafe, give Infamy or Fame. In vain the * Tyrian Queen...
Page 277 - Would soon finish his woes. When in rage he came there, Beholding how steep The sides did appear, And the bottom how deep; His torments projecting, And sadly reflecting, That a lover forsaken A new love may get, But a neck, when once broken, Can never be...
Page 288 - And winds from pole to pole the news convey ! Delia, the Queen of Love, let all deplore ! Delia, the Queen of Beauty, now no more ! 'Tis done, and all obey the mournful Mufe ! See, hills, and plains, and winds, have heard the news!
Page 273 - T' encrease that Wealth he wants the Soul to spend : Poor Shifter does his whole Contrivance set, To spend that Wealth he wants the Sense to get. How happy would appear to each his Fate, Had Gripe his Humour, or he Gripe's Estate ? Kind Fate and Fortune, blend 'em if you can, And of two Wretches make one happy Man.
Page 289 - Paffion knows, Swells with this Sorrow, and her Banks- o'erflows : What Shrieks are heard ? what Groans ? what dying Cries ? Ev*n Nature's felf in dire Convulfions lies ! DELIA, the Queen of Love, they All deplore ! DELIA, the Queen of Beauty, now no more!
Page 242 - While the peers cuff, to make the rabble sport: Or hirelings, at a prize, their fortunes try ; Certain to fall unpity'd if they die ; Since none can have the favourable thought That to obey a tyrant's will they fought, But that their lives they willingly expose, Bought by the pretors to adorn their shows.
Page 249 - I'm sincere, And know the ladies to a hair ; HoĢe'tr small poets whine upon it, In madrigal, in song, and sonnet. Their beauty's but a spell, to bring A lover to th' enchanted ring. Ere the sack-posset is digested, Or half of Hymen's taper wasted, The winning air, the wanton trip, The radiant eye, the velvet lip, From which you fragrant kisses stole, And seem'd to suck her springing soul ; These, and the rest you doated on, Are nauseous, or insipid grown ; The spell dissolves, the cloud is gone,...
Page 272 - Twou'd burn our corn and grafs away, To ftarve the world befide. Let not the thoughts of parting, fright Two fouls which...
Page 278 - OF all the torments, all the cares, "With which our lives are curst ; Of all the plagues a lover bears, Sure rivals are the worst ! By partners, in each other kind, Afflictions easier grow ; In love alone we hate to find Companions of our woe.

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