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The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Commands
Wood
Flood
Command
Woods
English
Monarch
Dead
Monarchs
Living
Oaks

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Genius is independent of situation.
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Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.
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What is this world?--A term which men have got, To signify not one in ten knows what A term, which with no more precision passes To point out herds of men than herds of asses In common use no more it means, we find, Than many fools in same opinions joined.
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And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
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When fiction rises pleasing to the eye, men will believe, because they love the lie but truth herself, if clouded with a frown, must have some solemn proof to pass her down.
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He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
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Whom drink made wits, though nature made them fools.
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Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
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Old Age, a second child, by nature curst With more and greater evils than the first, Weak, sickly, full of pains: in ev'ry breath Railing at life, and yet afraid of death.
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With that malignant envy which turns pale, And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
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Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespeare play'd And wonder'd at the work herself had made.
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Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out our pow'rs, and leaves a blank behind.
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The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.
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Genius is of no country.
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Enough of self, that darling luscious theme, O'er which philosophers in raptures dream Of which with seeming disregard they write Then prizing most when most they seem to slight.
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Man and wife, Coupled together for the sake of strife.
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No two on earth in all things can agree All have some darling singularity Women and men, as well as girls and boys, In gewgaws take delight, and sigh for toys, Your sceptres and your crowns, and such like things, Are but a better kind of toys for kings. In things indifferent reason bids us choose, Whether the whim's a monkey or a muse.
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Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
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The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride True is the charge, nor by themselves denied. Are they not then in strictest reason clear, Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?
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Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
Charles Churchill