The Works of Peter Pindar, Esq. [pseud.]: In Three Volumes ...

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J. Walker, 1797

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Page 187 - I tread the pale valley of death. With envy I wander forlorn. At the breeze which her beauty has fann'd ; And I envy the bird on the thorn. Who sits watching the crumbs from her hand. I envy the lark o'er her cot, Who calls her from slumber, so blest ; Nay, I envy the nightingale's note. The Syren who sings her to rest. On her hamlet once more let me dwell, — One look ! (the last comfort !) be mine ; O pleasure, and Delia, farewell ! Now, sorrow, I ever am thine.
Page 179 - Now, very sensibly indeed, Miss Grist, Thought opportunity should not be miss'd ; Knowing that prudery oft lets slip a joy ; Thus was Miss Grist too prudent to be coy. For really 'tis with girls a dangerous farce, To flout a swain when offers are but scarce. She did not scream, and cry, " I'll not be woo'd ; Keep off, you smutty fellow — don't be rude ; I'm meat for your superiors, tinker.
Page 43 - Philofophers your ignorance defpife ; E'en FOLLY, laughing, lifts her maudlin eyes, And freely on your wifdoms cracks her joke.
Page 153 - ... MARIAN'S COMPLAINT. SINCE truth ha' left the shepherd's tongue, Adieu the cheerful pipe and song ; Adieu the dance at closing day, And, ah, the happy morn of May. How oft he told me I was fair, And wove the garland for my hair : How oft for Marian...
Page 44 - Thus speak the Highwaymen in purple pride, On Slavery's poor gall'd back so wont to ride. Who would not laugh to see a Taylor bow Submissive to a Pair of Satin Breeches ; Saying, " O Breeches, all men must allow There's something in your aspect that bewitches ? " Let me admire you, Breeches, crown'd with glory; And, though I made you, let me still adore ye. Though a Rump's humble servant, form'd for need, To keep it warm, yet, Lord ! you are so fine, I cannot think you are my work indeed : Though...
Page 186 - At last, she may pity the Swain, And fancy his sorrows too long! Could thy voice give a smile to her cheek, What a joy, what a rapture, were mine! Then for ever thy fame would I speak! O, my Lute! what a triumph were thine!
Page 231 - Expecting every hour to lose his breath — Enter a dervise — ' Holy Father, say, As life seems parting from this sinful clay, What can preserve me from the jaws of Death ? ' ' A sacrifice, dear son — good joints of meat, Of lamb and mutton, for the priest and poor ; Nay, from the Koran should'st thou lines repeat, Those lines may possibly thy health restore.
Page 79 - Who (poor LOUSILLA!) only will reply, " With turtle moan, and tears in either eye. — " Thus, SIR, are you mistaken all this while, " And Queen and Pages, that our race revile, " As though our species could not life adorn, " And that th' ALMIGHTY made a Louse in scorn.
Page 179 - Suffered her tinker lover to imprint Sweet kisses on her lips, and squeeze her hand, Hug her, and say the softest things unto her, And in love's plain and pretty language woo her, Without a frown, or even a reprimand. Soon won, the nymph agreed to be his wife, And, when the tinker chose, to be tied for life.
Page 246 - JOAN ! we are married ! and now, let me say, Though both are in youth ; yet that youth will decay! In our journey through life, my dear JOAN! I suppose We shall oft meet a bramble, and sometimes a rose! When a cloud on this forehead shall darken my day, Thy sunshine of sweetness must smile it away! And when the dull vapour shall dwell upon thine, To chase it the labour and triumph be mine...

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