Life of the author [signed I.K.] Elfrid. Walking statue. Rinaldo. Fatal vision. King Henry V. Fatal extravagance. Merlin in love. Athelwold

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T. Lownds, 1760
 

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Page v - Mufe fhall find it all, mall make it feen, And teach the world his praife, to charm his queen. Such be the annual truths my verfe imparts...
Page xv - ... worthy of wives, to whom he had been married above twenty years. The following epitaph he wrote, and purpos'd for a monument which he defigned to erect over her grave. Enough, cold ftone ! fuflice her long-lov'd name ; Words are too weak to pay her virtues claim.
Page xiv - Dunciad meant you a real compliment ; and so it has been thought by many, who have asked to whom that passage made that oblique panegyric. As to the notes, I am weary of telling a great truth, which is, that I am not the author of them...
Page xiv - As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under so blind an attachment to the goddess I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I knew it was a commendation, though a dirtier one than I wished for ; who am neither fond of some of the company in which I was listed, the noble reward for which I was to become a diver, the allegoric muddiness in which I was to try my skill, nor the institutor of the games you were so kind to allow me a share in.
Page 10 - To prove his glorious pow'r unlimited, Ev'n from the late-made man, man's mighty Maker Stamp'da new form, ftill nearer to his own ; That form was woman, and that woman, wife. Woman, like fweet May dews on fummer's droughts Breathes her all-foftening influence ; peace, and reft Are woman's gifts to man ; when toils, and cares Have worn our weary fouls, woman, dear woman, Is nature's downy pillow of repofe. Elf. What muft man be, if woman be thus charming ? Athel. Man is a ftaff for your foft fex to...
Page 285 - The Rants of ruin'd Kings, of mighty Name, For pompous Misery, small Compassion claim. Empires o'rturn'd, and Heroes, held in Chains, Alarm the Mind, but give the Heart no Pains . To Ills, remote from our Domestic Fears, We lend our Wonder, but with-hold our Tears.
Page xiv - As to your oblique panegyric, I am not under fo blind an attachment to the goddefs I was devoted to in the Dunciad, but that I knew it was a commendation ; though a dirtier one than I wifhed for ; who am, neither fond of fome of the company, in which I was lifted — the noble reward, for which I was to become a diver ; — the allegoric muddinefs, in which I was to try my fkill;— nor the inftitutor of the games, you were...
Page xiv - Let half-soul'd poets still on poets fall, And teach the willing world to scorn them all. But, let no Muse, pre-eminent as thine, Of voice melodious, and of force divine, Stung by wits, wasps, all rights of rank forego, And turn, and snarl, and bite, at every foe.
Page 337 - This play was composed in little more than a week, on which account it is no wonder that it should be, as he himself has described it, " an unpruned wilderness of fancy, with here and there a flower among the leaves; but without any fruit of judgment.
Page 27 - The thorns which line it, and whof<- painful prickings Embitter all the pompous fweets of empire. Happier the wretch who at his daily toils Sweats for his homely dinner,— than a King In all the...

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