THE POETICAL WORKS OF CHARLES CHURCHILL

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Página 144 - THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high ; And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. 2 On cherub and on cherubim, Full royally he rode ; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad.
Página 199 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Página lxiv - Nay, sir, I am a very fair judge. He did not attack me violently till he found I did not like his poetry ; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from continuing to say what I think of him, from an apprehension that it may be ascribed to resentment. No, sir, I called the fellow a blockhead at first, and I will call him a blockhead still.
Página 32 - WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new : Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.
Página 131 - The exhibitions of the stage were improved to the most exquisite entertainment by the talents and management of Garrick, who greatly surpassed all his predecessors of this and perhaps every other nation, in his genius for acting ; in the sweetness and variety of his tones, the irresistible magic of his eye, the fire and vivacity of his action, the elegance of attitude, and the whole pathos of expression.
Página 85 - Looking tranquillity ! it strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chilness to my trembling heart.
Página 166 - What is't to us if taxes rise or fall? Thanks to our fortune, we pay none at all. Let muckworms, who in dirty acres deal, Lament those hardships which we cannot feel. His Grace, who smarts, may bellow if he please, But must I bellow too, who sit at ease? By custom safe, the poet's numbers flow Free as the light and air some years ago. No statesman e'er will find it worth his pains To tax our labours, and excise our brains.
Página 108 - Twas only that when he was off he was acting ; With no reason on earth to go out of his way, He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day : Tho...
Página 10 - Wit, my Lords, is a sort of property; it is the property of those who have it, and too often the only property they have to depend on. It is indeed but a precarious dependence. Thank God! we, my Lords, have a dependence of another kind...
Página 249 - I was pleased with the reply of a gentleman, who, being asked which book he esteemed most in his library, answered, — " Shakespeare : " being asked which he esteemed next best, replied,—

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