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Updated: May 26, 2025
Never neglecting an opportunity to indulge his humour, when Lady Mary Wortley Montagu wrote a poem on the untimely death of a friend, he could not refrain from presenting her with a parody. By Lady Mary Wortley Montagu "Hail, happy bride! for thou art truly bless'd, Three months of rapture crown'd with endless rest.
Then, bless'd Philanthropy! thy social hands Had link'd dissever'd worlds in brothers' bands; Careless, if colour, or if clime divide; Then lov'd and loving, man had liv'd, and died." Soon after the account arrived in England of Captain Cook's decease, two poems were published in celebration of his memory; one of which was an Ode, by a Mr. Fitzgerald, of Gray's Inn.
Their riches, gay deceitful snares, Enlarge their fears, increase their cares Their servants' joy surpasses theirs; At least so judges PAMELA. Your parents and relations love Let them your duty ever prove; And you'll be bless'd by Heav'n above, As will, I hope, poor PAMELA.
As this seat looks on the magnificent line of Bowood park and plantations, the obvious thought could not be well avoided: "When in thy sight another's vast domain Spreads its dark sweep of woods, dost thou complain? Nay! rather thank the God who placed thy state Above the lowly, but beneath the great; And still his name with gratitude revere, Who bless'd the sabbath of thy leisure here."
Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. Laud we the gods And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars. The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth watch in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five to three. Just nice time to walk to Artane.
Andrew Tooke pictures Envy as a vile female: A deadly paleness in her cheek was seen; Her meager skeleton scarce cased with skin; Her looks awry; an everlasting scowl Sits on her brow; her teeth deform'd and foul; Her breast had gall more than her breast could hold; Beneath her tongue coats of poison roll'd; No smile e'er smooth'd her furrow'd brow but those Which rose from laughing at another's woes; Her eyes were strangers to the sweets of sleep, Devouring spite for ever waking keep; She sees bless'd men with vast success crown'd, Their joys distract her, and their glories wound; She kills abroad, herself's consum'd at home, And her own crimes are her perpetual martyrdom.
Yet shores there are, bless'd shores for us remain, And favour'd isles, with golden fruitage crown'd, Where tufted flow'rets paint the verdant plain, And every breeze shall medicine every wound." In the year 1755, Dr. Hayter, bishop of Norwich, preached a sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, in which he bore his testimony against the continuance of this trade.
"I saw them in my dreams come flying east and west, With wondrous fairy gifts the new-born babe they bless'd; One has brought a jewel and one a crown of gold, And one has brought a curse but she is wrinkled and old. The gentle queen turns pale to hear those words of sin, But the king he only laughs and bids the dance begin.
Whereupon she Yell'd Aloud & did Seize the Calf of my Leg & Bite me, Causing me Great Physical Pain and Mental Anguish. How sharper than a Serpent's Tooth is an Ungrateful Child!" "This day died my Wife, an Estimable Helpmeet. I shall sadly Lack her Management of the House." In spite of which, he buys more land. Life seems to run smoothly enough. "The Lord hath bless'd me with Abundance.
Behold, now Boaz came from Bethlehem Unto his reapers, and saluted them, And they bless'd him again: and he enquired Of him that was set over them he hired, From whence the damsel was, and was inform'd She was the Moabitess that return'd With Naomi: and she did ask, said he, That here amongst the reapers she might be, And that she might have liberty to glean Among the sheaves.
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