Verses on the Death of Dr. S----. D.S.P.D.: Occasioned by Reading a Maxim in Rochefoulcault ... In the Adversity of Our Best Friends, We Find Something that Doth Not Displease Us

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George Faulkner, 1739 - 44 pages

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Page 10 - See how the Dean begins to break! Poor gentleman, he droops apace! You plainly find it in his face. That old vertigo in his head Will never leave him, till he's dead. Besides, his memory decays: He recollects not what he says; He cannot call his friends to mind; Forgets the place where last he dined; Plies you with stories o'er and o'er; He told them fifty times before.
Page 7 - Lies rackt with pain, and you without : How patiently you hear him groan. How glad the case is not your own. What poet would not grieve to see His breth'ren write as well as he ? But rather than they should excel, He'd wish his rivals all in hell.
Page 9 - em? To all my foes, dear Fortune, send Thy gifts; but never to my friend: I tamely can endure the first; But this with envy makes me burst.
Page 29 - He never courted men in station, Nor persons held in admiration : Of no man's greatness was afraid, Because he sought for no man's aid. Though trusted long in great affairs, He gave himself no haughty airs : Without regarding private ends, Spent all his credit for his friends...
Page 5 - em true: They argue no corrupted Mind In him; the Fault is in Mankind. This Maxim more than all the rest Is thought too base for human Breast; "In all Distresses of our Friends We first consult our private Ends, While nature kindly bent to ease us, Points out some Circumstance to please us.
Page 11 - His stomach, too, begins to fail : Last year we thought him strong and hale, But now he's quite another thing ; I wish he may hold out till spring.
Page 10 - To hear his out-of-fashion wit? But he takes up with younger folks, Who for his wine will bear his jokes. Faith, he must make his stories shorter...
Page 44 - With all the Turns of Whigs and Tories: "Was cheerful to his dying Day, "And Friends would let him have his Way. "He gave the little Wealth he had, "To build a House for Fools and Mad: "And shew'd by one satiric Touch, "No Nation wanted it so much: "That Kingdom he hath left his Debtor, "I wish it soon may have a Better.
Page 11 - His fancy sunk, his Muse a jade. I'd have him throw away his pen;— But there's no talking to some men!
Page 14 - And had the Dean, in all the nation, No worthy friend, no poor relation ? So ready to do strangers good, Forgetting his own flesh and blood...

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