The Poetical Works of Richard Savage: With the Life of the Author, Volumen1

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At the Apollo Press, by the Martins, 1780 - 182 páginas
 

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Página xxiv - During a considerable part of the time in which he was employed upon this performance he was without lodging, and often without meat; nor had he any other conveniences for study than the fields or the streets allowed him; there he used to walk and form his speeches, and afterwards step into a shop, beg for a few moments the use of the pen and ink, and write down what he had composed upon paper which he had picked up by accident.
Página cxiv - ... he could not bear to debar himself from the happiness which was to be found in the calm of a cottage, or lose the opportunity of listening, without intermission, to the melody of the nightingale, which he believed was to be heard from every bramble, and which he did not fail to mention as a very important part of the happiness of a country life.
Página 136 - Queens, with their minions, work unfeemly things, And boys grow dukes, when catamites to kings. Does a prince die ? What poifons they furmife I No royal mortal fure by nature dies.
Página 173 - Defcends for ever to the filent grave. ' She, born at once to charm us and to mend, Of human race the pattern and the friend.
Página cxlii - ... nothing will supply the want of prudence; and that negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible.
Página 105 - Shall mines obedient, aid no artifts care, Nor give the martial fword and peaceful fliare ? Ah ! fliall they never precious ore unfold, To fmile in filver, or to flame in gold ? Shall here the vegetable world alone, For joys, for various virtues, reft unknown ? While food and...
Página 17 - A fiend in evil moments ever nigh ! Death in her hand, and frenzy in her eye ? Her eye all red, and funk ! — A robe flie wore, With life's calamities embroider'd o'er.
Página 161 - I hope, if not from heav'n and you? Nor dare I groan beneath affliction's rod, My Queen, my Mother ; and my Father, God. The pitying...
Página 100 - British, hence, with Roman grandeur vies; Not grandeur that in pompous whim appears, That levels hills, that vales to mountains rears; That alters Nature's regulated grace, Meaning to deck, but destin'd to deface.
Página 175 - Charity ! next her thy throne ; See at thy tomb the Virtues weeping lie ! There in dumb sorrow seem the Arts to die. So were the sun o'er other orbs to blaze, And...

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