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"'Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet." Having uttered this quotation with considerable self-complacency, and thereby entirely completed his conquest over Paul, Mr.
Seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet, Seu fovet mater sobolem benigna. Sive cum libris novitate pascet Sedula mentem; Sit memor nostri, fideique merces, Stet fides constans, meritoque blandum Thraliae discant resonare nomen Littora Skiae. Scriptum in Skia, Sept. 6, 1773. Tuesday, 7th September Dr Johnson was much pleased with his entertainment here.
My Affections are so strongly engaged, and my Fears are so raised, by what I have already read, that I cannot express my Eagerness to see the rest. Sure this Mr. Richardson is Master of all that Art which Horace compares to Witchcraft Pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet Ut Magus.
The Consul was sent for. He called on the people to follow him out of the theatre to the Temple of Bellona, and there addressed to them that wonderful oration by which they were sent away not only pacified but in good-humor with Otho himself. "Iste regit dictis animos et pectora mulcet." I have spoken of Pliny's eulogy as to the great Consul's doings of the year.
"Ac, veluti magno in populo cum saepe coorta est Seditio, saevitque animis ignobile vulgus; Jamque faces, et saxa volant; furor arma ministrat; Tum, pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum quem Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant: Ille regit dictis animos, et pectora mulcet: Sic cunctus pelagi cecidit fragor, aequora postquam Prospiciens genitor, coeloque invectus aperto Flectit equos, curruque volans dat lora secundo."
"'Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet." Having uttered this quotation with considerable self-complacency, and thereby entirely completed his conquest over Paul, Mr.
Addison. 'Ac ne forte putes, me, que facere ipse recusem, Cum recte tractant alii, laudare maligne; Ille per extentum funem mihi fosse videtur Ire Poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, Ut magus; et modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis. Hor.
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