How much mistaken are the men who think That all who will, without restraint may drink, May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst, Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,...
Can the fond mother from herself depart?[22] Can she forget the darling of her heart, The little darling whom she bore and bred, Nursed on her knees, and at her bosom fed;...
Happy the bard (though few such bards we find) Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak his mind; Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear, And nothing fears, but what he ought to fear:...
When Pope to Satire gave its lawful way, And made the Nimrods of Mankind his prey; When haughty Windsor heard through every wood Their shame, who durst be great, yet not be good;...
Deep in the bosom of a wood, Out of the road, a Temple[4] stood: Ancient, and much the worse for wear, It call'd aloud for quick repair, And, tottering from side to side,...
Ah me! what mighty perils wait The man who meddles with a state, Whether to strengthen, or oppose! False are his friends, and firm his foes: How must his soul, once ventured in,...
A sacred standard rule we find, By poets held time out of mind, To offer at Apollo's shrine, And call on one, or all the Nine. This custom, through a bigot zeal, Which moderns of fine taste must feel...
It was the hour, when housewife Morn With pearl and linen hangs each thorn; When happy bards, who can regale Their Muse with country air and ale, Ramble afield to brooks and bowers,...
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence To something of exalted sense 'Bove other men, and, gravely wise, Affect those pleasures to despise, Which, merely to the eye confined,...