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Updated: May 10, 2025
But nothing could a charm impart To sooth the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the hermit spy'd, With answering care opprest: 'And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd, 'The sorrows of thy breast? 'From better habitations spurn'd, Reluctant dost thou rove; Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, Or unregarded love?
Here, for instance, is a stanza which it is not for those who run to read: Increasing days their reign exalt, Nor in the pink and mottled vault The opposing spirits tilt; And, by the coasting reader spy'd, The silverlings and crusions glide For Adoration gilt. This is charming; but if it were in one of the tongues of the heathen we should get Dr. Verrall to explain it away. Poor Mr.
About half Seas over between that Bay and the Island of Johanna, they came up with an English East-India Man, which made Signals of Distress as soon as she spy'd Misson and his Prize; they found her sinking by an unexpected Leak, and took all her Men on Board, though they could get little out of her before she went down.
The Wolf Struck up the Bargain, and so away they Trotted together: But as they were Jogging on, the Wolf spy'd a Bare Place about the Dog's Neck where the Hair was worn off. Oh, That's Nothing, says the Dog, but the Fretting of my Collar a little. Nay, says T'other, if there be a Collar in the Case, I know Better Things than to sell my Liberty for a Crust.
I am engaged in this Speculation, by some Occurrences that I met with Yesterday, which I shall give my Reader an Account of at large. As I was walking with my Friend Sir ROGER by the side of one of his Woods, an old Woman applied herself to me for my Charity. In a close Lane as I pursued my Journey, I spy'd a wrinkled Hag, with Age grown double, Picking dry Sticks, and mumbling to her self.
In a close lane as I pursu'd my journey, I spy'd a wrinkled Hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself.
Then with their asses laden towards home They went, and when into their inn they come As one of them his sack of corn unty'd, To give his ass some provender, he spy'd His money in his sack again return'd; Wherefore he call'd his brethren and inform'd Them that his money was returned back. Behold, said he, it is here in my sack.
Celinda, who did Love disdain, For whom had languished many a Swain, Leading her bleating Flocks to drink, She spy'd upon the River's brink A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare How much he lov'd, but lov'd not her.
My Dear Betty, May 14, 1711. Remember your bleeding Lover, who lies bleeding at the ... Where two beginning Paps were scarcely spy'd, For yet their Places were but signify'd. Wounds Cupid made with the Arrows he borrowed at the Eyes of Venus, which is your sweet Person.
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