The Works of the English Poets: Gay

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H. Hughs, 1779
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Página 254 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain ; Let me kiss off that falling tear ; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds ; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Página 75 - Two Hazel-Nuts I threw into the Flame, And to each Nut I gave a Sweet-heart's Name. This with the loudest Bounce me sore amaz'd, That in a Flame of brightest Colour blaz'd. As blaz'd the Nut so may thy Passion grow, For 'twas thy Nut that did so brightly glow.
Página 253 - So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast, If chance his mate's shrill call he hear, And drops at once into her nest. The...
Página 142 - Heaven thy eyes and hands, When the long scroll the surgeon's fees demands ! Or else (ye gods, avert that worst disgrace !) Thy ruin'd nose falls level with thy face ! Then shall thy wife thy loathsome kiss disdain, And wholesome neighbours from thy mug refrain. Yet there are watchmen, who with friendly light...
Página 74 - With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.
Página 127 - Eyes, and hasts to beggar more. Where the brass Knocker, wrapt in Flannel Band, Forbids the Thunder of the Footman's Hand; Th...
Página 264 - Like the eyes of my sweet Molly Mog. ' For guineas in other men's breeches Your gamesters' will palm and will cog ; But I envy them none of their riches, So I may win sweet Molly Mog.
Página 188 - Ev'n in mid ocean often didst thou quail, And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand, Praying the Virgin dear, and saintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.
Página 194 - All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain, On whose strong pinions I exalt my lay. What from contending cities did he gain; And what rewards his grateful country pay? None, none were paid — why then all this for me? These honours, Homer, had been just to thee.
Página 84 - The daisy, butter-flower, and endive blue. After the good man warn'd us from his text, That none could tell whose turn would be the next, He said that Heaven would take her soul, no doubt, And spoke the hour-glass in her praise— quite out...

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