The Poetical Works of Samuel Butler, Band 2

W. Pickering, 1835

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Seite 7 - Their duty never was defeated, Nor from their oaths and faith retreated : For loyalty is still the same Whether it win or lose the game ; True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not shin'd upon.
Seite 20 - O' th' compass in their bones and joints, Can by their pangs and aches find All turns and changes of the wind. And better than by Napier's bones Feel in their own the age of moons...
Seite 84 - He that complies against his will, Is of his own opinion still ; Which he may adhere to. yet disown, For reasons to himself best known : 550 But 'tis not to b
Seite 74 - This stratagem to' amuse our foes To make an hon'rable retreat, And wave a total sure defeat : For those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that's slain.
Seite 127 - It is a large one, far more great Than e'er was bred in Afric yet, From which we boldly may infer The Moon is much the fruitfuller. And since the mighty Pyrrhus brought...
Seite 187 - Unhappy man takes pains to find, T' inflict himself upon his mind : And out of his own bowels spins A rack and torture for his sins ; Torments himself, in vain, to know That most, which he can never do; And the more strictly 'tis denied, The more he is unsatisfied; Is busy in finding scruples out, To languish in eternal doubt...
Seite 138 - That is not huge and over-grown, And explicate appearances, Not as they are, but as they please ; In vain strive Nature to suborn, And, for their pains, are paid with scorn.
Seite 161 - Ere one Drop of his Lady's should be spilt. P. Your Wounds are but without, and mine within; You wound my Heart, and I but prick your Skin: And while your Eyes pierce deeper than my Claws, You blame th' Effect, of which you are the Cause.
Seite 200 - T' imprison and confine his thoughts in verse ; To hang so dull a clog upon his wit, And make his reason to his rhyme submit ! Without this plague, I freely might have spent My happy days with leisure and content ; Had nothing in the world to do' or think, Like a fat priest, but whore, and eat, and drink : Had past my time as pleasantly away, Slept all the night, and loiter'd all the day. My soul, that 's free from care, and fear, and hope, Knows how to make her own ambition stoop, T' avoid uneasy...
Seite 297 - Full oft he sufferM bangs and drubs, And full as oft took pains in tubs; Of which the most that can be said, He pray'd and fought, and fought and pray'd. As for his personage and shape, Among the rest...

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