The London Magazine, and Monthly Chronologer, Volume 14

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C. Ackers, 1745
 

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Page 145 - Good God ! how sweet are all things here ! How beautiful the fields appear ! How cleanly do we feed and lie ! Lord ! what good hours do we keep ! How quietly we sleep...
Page 620 - French officer know, if there be one in the town, that there are no Dutch troops here, but enough of the King's to chastise the rebels, and those who dare to give them assistance. (Signed) " Col. CONWAY, " Aid-de-Camp to his RH the Duke.
Page 303 - These being brought into the fold, And by the thrifty master told, He thinks his wages are well paid, Since none are either lost or stray'd.
Page 145 - Live but undisturbed and free ! Here in this despised recess, Would I, maugre winter's cold And the summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old ; And, all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die.
Page 620 - Governor and principal officers are to deliver themselves up immediately, and the castle, citadel, and all the gates ,of the town, are to be taken possession of forthwith by the King's troops. All the small arms are to be lodged in the town guard-room ; and the rest of the garrison are to retire to the cathedral, where a guard is to be placed over them. No damage is to be done to the artillery, arms, or ammunition.
Page 406 - When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and shook his crimson steel, And bade the father of his country hail ? For lo ! the tyrant prostrate on the dust, And Rome again is free...
Page 145 - O my beloved nymph, fair Dove, Princess of rivers, how I love Upon thy flowery banks to lie, And view thy silver stream, When gilded by a Summer's beam! And in it all thy wanton fry Playing at liberty, And, with my angle, upon them The all of treachery I ever learned industriously to try!
Page 357 - The goblin now the fool alarms, Hags meet to mumble o'er their charms, The night-mare rides the dreaming ass, And fairies trip it on the grass.
Page 246 - The Lord descended from above, And bow'd the heavens high, And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. On cherubs and on cherubims, Full royally he rode, And on the wings of mighty winds, Came flying all abroad.
Page 145 - In the artificial night, Your gloomy entrails make, Have I taken, do I take ! How oft, when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society, E'en of my dearest friends, have I, In your recesses...

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