The First Epistle of the Second Book of Horace, Imitated

T. Cooper, 1737 - 23 Seiten

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Seite 13 - Behold the hand that wrought a Nation's cure, Stretch'd to relieve the Idiot and the Poor, Proud Vice to brand, or injur'd Worth adorn, And stretch the Ray to Ages yet unborn.
Seite 23 - Besides, a fate attends on all I write, That when I aim at praise they say I bite. A vile encomium doubly ridicules : There's nothing blackens like the ink of fools. If true, a woful likeness ; and, if lies, ' Praise undeserv'd is scandal in disguise.
Seite 9 - New-market's Glory rose, as Britain's fell; The Soldier breath'd the Gallantries of France, And ev'ry flow'ry Courtier writ Romance. Then Marble, soften'd into life, grew warm, And yielding Metal flow'd to human form: Lely on animated Canvas stole The sleepy Eye, that spoke the melting soul.
Seite 22 - Peace ftole her wing, and wrapt the' world in fleep; Till earth's extremes your mediation own, And Afia's tyrants tremble at your throne. But...
Seite 5 - Yet surely, surely, these were famous men! What Boy but hears the saying of old Ben? In all debates where Criticks bear a part, Not one but nods, and talks of Johnson's Art, Of Shakespear's Nature, and of Cowley's Wit; How Beaumont's Judgment check'd what Fletcher writ; How Shadwell" hasty, Wycherly was slow; But, for the Passions, Southern sure and Rowe. These, only these, support the crouded stage, From eldest Heywood down to Cibber's age.
Seite 21 - T' enroll your triumphs o'er the feas and land, Be call'd to Court to plan fome work divine, As once for Louis, Boileau and Racine. 375...
Seite 1 - While you, great patron of mankind, fuftain The balanc'd world, and open all the main ; Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend, At home with morals, arts, and laws amend ; How (hall the Mufe from fuch a monarch...
Seite 21 - To fing, or ce.ilc to fing, we never know ; And if we will recite nine hours in ten, You lofe your patience juft like oilier men.
Seite 8 - Lad mould teach his father (kill, And, having once been wrong, will be fo ftill.' He, who to feem more deep than you or I...
Seite 4 - Could ihe behold us tumbling thro' a hoop. If time improve our wits as well as wine, Say at what age ,a poet grows divine...

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