The New Foundling Hospital for Wit: Being a Collection of Fugitive Pieces, in Prose and Verse, Not in Any Other Collection. With Several Pieces Never Before Published, Volume 4
1786 - English literature
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
America appear arms bear beſt better bold cauſe CHORUS common court dare death Earl England EPIGRAM ev'ry eyes fair fall fame fear fight fire firſt flow fons freedom give glory grace hand head hear heart heroes hold honour hope hour houſe juſt keep king ladies land laſt late laws liberty light look Lord means mighty mind miniſter moſt muſe muſt nature ne'er never noble o'er once patriot peace plain POLITICAL poor pow'r prince printed reaſon reign riſe round royal ſaid ſay ſee ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhould ſome ſoul ſtate ſtill ſtream ſuch Tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought thro town true truth virtue whole whoſe wiſh worth
Page 275 - While mufic charms the ravifli'd ear, "While fparkling cups delight our eyes, Be gay, and fcorn the frowns of age. What cruel anfwer have I heard ! And yet, by heav'n, I love...
Page 274 - Require the borrow'd gloss of art ? Speak not of fate : ah ! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom : 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.
Page 142 - Hence, avaunt, ('tis holy ground) 'Comus, and his midnight-crew, 'And Ignorance with looks profound, 'And dreaming Sloth of pallid hue, 'Mad Sedition's cry profane, 'Servitude that hugs her chain, 'Nor in these consecrated bowers 'Let painted Flatt'ry hide her serpent-train in flowers. CHORUS 'Nor Envy base, nor creeping Gain 'Dare the Muse's walk to stain, 'While bright-eyed Science watches round: 'Hence, away, 'tis holy Ground!
Page 40 - I cannot see my king Neither in person or in coin ; Yet contemplation is a thing That renders what I have not, mine...
Page 274 - tis all a dream; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom. Beauty has such...
Page 273 - That rosy cheek, that lily hand, • Would give thy poet more delight Than all Bocara's vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand. Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow, And bid thy pensive heart be glad, Whate'er the frowning zealots say : Tell them, their Eden cannot show A stream so clear as Rocnabad, A bower so sweet as Mosellay.
Page 146 - Anjou's heroine, and the paler rose, The rival of her crown and of her woes, And either Henry there, The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord, That broke the bonds of Rome. (Their tears, their little triumphs o'er, Their human passions now no more, Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb.
Page 55 - With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright.
Page 256 - In happy climes, where from the genial fun And virgin earth fuch fcenes enfue, The force of art by nature feems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true : • In happy climes, the feat of innocence, Where nature guides and virtue rules, Where men fhall not impofe for truth and fenfe The pedantry of courts and fchools : There fhall be fung another golden age...
Page 146 - And sad Chatillon, on her bridal morn That wept her bleeding Love, and princely Clare. And Anjou's heroine, and the paler rose, The rival of her crown and of her woes, And either Henry there, The murder'd saint, and the majestic lord, That broke the bonds of Rome.