English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

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M'Intosh & Company, 1825 - 34 pages
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Page 9 - Still must mine, though bleeding, beat ; And the undying thought which paineth Is - that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead ; Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widow'd bed. And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say " Father ! " Though his care she must forego?
Page ix - to shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double...
Page 9 - T was not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee — Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe. Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found, Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound. Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away...
Page ii - I pour'd along the town a flood of rhyme, A schoolboy freak, unworthy praise or blame; I printed — older children do the same. 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in't.
Page iii - A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning, call it Attic salt; To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit, Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit , Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic hated yet caressed.
Page 9 - Though his care she must forego ? When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is...
Page iii - And shall we own such judgment? no — as soon Seek roses in December — ice in June; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff, Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in Critics...
Page 4 - White * ! while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When science...
Page 9 - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
Page 4 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low: So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again...

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