The Spirit of the Public Journals: Being an Impartial Selection of the Most Exquisite Essays and Jeux D'esprits, Principally Prose, that Appear in the Newspapers and Other Publications, Том 8Stephen Jones, Charles Molloy Westmacott James Ridgway, 1805 |
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Стр. 39
... live or fall With Britain's glory , one and all . PT . An equal zeal my bofom fires , A Chm's blood a P -- t infpires ; Ten times for England would I fall , Nor could ten deaths great Will appal , If , entre nous , you'd once again ...
... live or fall With Britain's glory , one and all . PT . An equal zeal my bofom fires , A Chm's blood a P -- t infpires ; Ten times for England would I fall , Nor could ten deaths great Will appal , If , entre nous , you'd once again ...
Стр. 53
... Lives , you need not foon fear the lofs of me , nor that of the public fupport , while you CATer for them to fuch advantage ; and I make no doubt we shall foon put an end to these unnatural DOG- DAYS . CATterick . D 3 CAT - 0 . DOG SIR ...
... Lives , you need not foon fear the lofs of me , nor that of the public fupport , while you CATer for them to fuch advantage ; and I make no doubt we shall foon put an end to these unnatural DOG- DAYS . CATterick . D 3 CAT - 0 . DOG SIR ...
Стр. 104
... lives ; All we love , and all that love us— Children , parents , friends , and wives ; King and country , laws and ... live ; In Call Britannia ! loud invoke her ! While her own great fons I give ; — Here's Here's our King ! the best ...
... lives ; All we love , and all that love us— Children , parents , friends , and wives ; King and country , laws and ... live ; In Call Britannia ! loud invoke her ! While her own great fons I give ; — Here's Here's our King ! the best ...
Стр. 108
... live to fee this ! " - " What , my Lord ! what is it that you fee ? " rejoined the Dutchefs , cafting her eyes the fame way . Why , my Lady , a group of women bathing at broad noon - day ! " - " Women ! " faid she , look- ing more ...
... live to fee this ! " - " What , my Lord ! what is it that you fee ? " rejoined the Dutchefs , cafting her eyes the fame way . Why , my Lady , a group of women bathing at broad noon - day ! " - " Women ! " faid she , look- ing more ...
Стр. 114
... give , So much he thinks about her ; With her he fwears he cannot LIVE , Yet DIES when he's without her . T.B. IMPROMPTU . A Woman finging ballads for money to bury ( 114 ) Love à-la-mode Folly of oppofing Love Beauty Certain Death.
... give , So much he thinks about her ; With her he fwears he cannot LIVE , Yet DIES when he's without her . T.B. IMPROMPTU . A Woman finging ballads for money to bury ( 114 ) Love à-la-mode Folly of oppofing Love Beauty Certain Death.
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2d Author Addington addrefs Affiftant againſt alfo becauſe beft Blood-hounds Bonaparté Britiſh Canine caufe Citizen confequence defire dere Doctor Downing Street drefs England EPIGRAM ev'ry eyes fafe faid fame faſhion fatire fave fear feems feen fenfe fent fervice fhall fhew fhore fhort fhould fide fince firft firſt fituation fkies fome foon foul fpirit French ftate ftill fubject fuch fuppofe fupport fure furpriſe fwear fweet guife head himſelf honeft honour Houfe houſe Jack Ketch John Bull juft Killaloo ladies laft laſt lefs Legion of Honour Lenitive Lord Majefty Marſden mind Minifter moft Monfieur Morning Chronicle Morning Poft moſt Mufe muft muſt myſelf ne'er never night o'er obferved occafion Oracle paffion perfons philofophic Pitt pleaſe prefent Prefs propofed purpoſe reafon refpect ſhall tell thefe themſelves theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand uſeful Whilft whofe wife
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Стр. 206 - Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be. "Fly, my lord bishop, fly!" quoth he, "Ten thousand rats are coming this way, The Lord forgive you for yesterday!" "I'll go to my tower on the Rhine...
Стр. 2 - By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
Стр. 207 - And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls, by thousands they pour ; And down from the ceiling and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below, — And all at once to the bishop they go. They have whetted their teeth against the stones, And now they pick the bishop's bones ; They gnawed the flesh from every limb, For they were sent to do judgment on him ! ROBERT SOUTHEY.
Стр. 205 - The poor folk flocked from far and near ; The great barn was full as it could hold Of women and children, and young and old. Then when he saw it could hold no more Bishop Hatto he made fast the door ; And while for mercy on Christ they call, He set fire to the barn and burnt them all.
Стр. 90 - Our females have been used at night to walk. Sometimes, indeed, so various is our art, An actor may improve and mend his part ; "Give me a horse," bawls Richard, like a drone, We'll find a man would help himself to one.
Стр. 233 - Foul whisperings are abroad: Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine, than the physician.— God, God, forgive us all!
Стр. 143 - What are our Poets, take them as they fall — Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ? Them and their works in the same class you'll find ; They are the mere Waste-Paper of mankind.
Стр. 143 - Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. Will any paper match him ? Yes, throughout, He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt. The retail politician's anxious thought Deems this side always right, and that stark naught...
Стр. 89 - FROM distant climes, o'er wide-spread seas we come, Though not with much eclat, or beat of drum; True patriots all, for, be it understood, We left our country for our country's good: No private views disgraced our generous zeal, What urged our travels was our country's weal; And none will doubt but that our emigration Has proved most useful to the British nation.
Стр. 143 - I'll bring ; Tis the great man who scorns a little thing, Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own, Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone ; True genuine royal paper is his breast; Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.