The Works of the English Poets: Swift

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H. Hughs, 1779
 

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第 25 頁 - You are no Text for my Handling, so take that from me: I was never taken for a Conjurer before, I'd have you to know.
第 265 頁 - Down through a thing you call a vale, Like tears adown a wrinkled cheek, Like rain along a blade of leek : And this you call your sweet meander, Which might be suck'd up by a gander, Could he but force his nether bill To scoop the channel of the rill.
第 178 頁 - Call'd every power to ease my pains ; Then Stella ran to my relief, With cheerful face and inward grief; And, though by Heaven's severe decree She suffers hourly more than me, No cruel master could require, From slaves...
第 22 頁 - Then the Bell rung, and I went down to put my Lady to Bed, And, God knows, I thought my Money was as safe as my Maidenhead. So when I came up again, I found my Pocket feel very light, But when I search'd, and miss'd my Purse, Lord! I thought I should have sunk outright: Lord! Madam, says Mary, how d'ye do? Indeed, says I, never worse; But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with my Purse!
第 323 頁 - I speak without a tongue. Nought but one thing can confound me, Many voices joining round me; Then I fret, and rave, and gabble, Like the labourers of Babel. Now I am a dog, or cow, I can bark, or I can low; I can bleat, or I can sing, Like the warblers of the spring. Let the lovesick bard complain...
第 149 頁 - Tis true — then why should I repine To see my life so fast decline ? But why obscurely here alone, Where I am neither loved nor known ? My state of health none care to learn ; My life is here no soul's concern ; And those with whom I now converse, Without a tear will tend my hearse. Removed from kind Arbuthnot's aid, Who knows his art, but not his trade, Preferring his regard for me Before his credit or his fee.
第 99 頁 - I chopp'd so fast, that few there minded. My emblem, the laborious sun, Saw all these mighty labours done Before one race of his was run. All this perform'd by Robert Hewit: What mortal else could e'er go through it!
第 90 頁 - Not thinking it is levee-day, And find his honour in a pound, Hemm'd by a triple circle round, Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green: How should I thrust myself between?
第 61 頁 - Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs. Box'd in a chair, the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds ; he trembles from within...
第 89 頁 - I'VE often wish'd that I had clear For life six hundred pounds a year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end, A terrace-walk, and half a rood Of land set out to plant a wood. Well, now I have all this, and more, I ask not to increase my store ; But here a grievance seems to lie, All this is mine but till I die; I can't but think 'twould sound more clever, To me and to my heirs for ever.

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