The works of Jonathan Swift, 第 2 卷

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G. Faulkner, 1744
 

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第 372 頁 - So geographers, in Afric maps, With savage pictures fill their gaps, And o'er unhabitable downs Place elephants for want of towns.
第 69 頁 - Love why do we one passion call, When 'tis a compound of them all ? Where hot and cold, where sharp and sweet, In all their equipages meet; Where pleasures mix'd with pains appear, Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear; Wherein his dignity and age Forbid Cadenus to engage.
第 224 頁 - tis a quaint device : Your still-born poems shall revive, And scorn to wrap up spice. Get all your verses printed fair, Then let them well be dried j And Curll must have a special care To leave the margin wide. Lend these to paper-sparing ' Pope ; And when he sits to write. No letter with an envelope Could give him more delight.
第 20 頁 - Had never left each other's side ; The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone ; But, up against the steeple rear'd, Became a clock...
第 365 頁 - Thus when Philomela drooping Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping ; Melody resigns to fate.
第 32 頁 - Threat'ning with deluge this devoted town. To shops in crowds the daggled females fly, Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
第 61 頁 - A father, and the nymph his child. That innocent delight he took To see the virgin mind her book, Was but the master's secret joy In school to hear the finest boy.
第 104 頁 - To raise the lumber from the earth. But view him in another scene, When all his drink is Hippocrene, His money...
第 33 頁 - Street they sail'd from, by their Sight and Smell. ' They, as each Torrent drives, with rapid Force From Smithfield, or St. Pulchre's shape their Course, And in huge Confluent join at Snow-Hill Ridge, Fall from the Conduit prone to Holborn- Bridge. Sweepings from Butchers...
第 227 頁 - THIS day, whate'er the Fates decree, Shall still be kept with joy by me : This day, then, let us not be told That you are sick and I grown old, Nor think on our approaching ills, And talk of spectacles and pills : To-morrow will be time enough To hear such mortifying stuff.

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