This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1801 Excerpt: ...calm, or foul, or fair. But here's the mischief--Man's an ass, I fay; Too fond of thunder, lightning, storm, and rainj He hides the charming, cheersul ray That spreads a smile o'er hill and plain! Dark, he must court the scull, and spade, and shroud, The mistress -f his foul must be a Cloud! Who Who told him that he ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1801 Excerpt: ...calm, or foul, or fair. But here's the mischief--Man's an ass, I fay; Too fond of thunder, lightning, storm, and rainj He hides the charming, cheersul ray That spreads a smile o'er hill and plain! Dark, he must court the scull, and spade, and shroud, The mistress -f his foul must be a Cloud! Who Who told him that he must be curs'd on earth?--The God or Nature?--No such thing! Heav': whisper'd him/ the moment of his birth, "Don't ciy, my lad, but dance and sing; Don't be too wise, and be an ape: " In colours let thy foul be dress'd, not crape. ' Roses shall smooth Life's journey, and adorn; " Yet, mind me--if, through want of grace, " Thou-mean'st to fling the blessing in my face, " Thou hass t sull leave to tread upon a thorn." Yet some there are, of men I think the worst, Poor imps! unhappy, if they can't be curs'd--For ever brooding over Mis'ry's eggs, As though Lise's pleasure were a deadly sin; Mousing for ever for a gin To catch their happinesses by the legs. Ev'n at a dinner, some will be unbless'd, However good the viands, and well dress'd: They always come to table with a scowl, Squint with a face of verjuice o'er each dish, Fault the poor flesh, and quarrel with the fish, Curse cook and wise, and, loathing, eat and growl. A cart-load, lo, their stomachs steal, Yet swear they cannot make a meal. I like not the blue-devil-hunting crew! I hate to drop the discontented jaw! O let me Nature's simple smile pursue, And pick ev'n pleasure from a straw! ODE o D E xn. REAT Sov'reigns, Sirs, with more respect, I beg: To Thrones, with due decorum, make a leg; Ev'n those are facred, though but empty chairs: There, lurks in Thrones a something, though but wood, That thrills with awe the vulgar mass of blood, And fills t...
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