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againſt alſo alter'd Atque becauſe beſides beſt Cant cauſe Comus darkneſs deſcribes doth edition elſe Engliſh eſt Faery Queen fing firſt Goddeſs haſt hath Heav'n himſelf houſe ipſe juſt laſt leſs Lord loſs Lycidas Manu Manuſcript Maſk mihi Milton Milton's Manuſcript moſt Muſe muſic muſt night numina Nunc º º obſerve occaſion Ovid Paradiſe Loſt paſs paſſage poem poet praiſe preſent quae quid quoque reaſon reſt Richardſon riſe roſe ſad ſage ſaid ſame ſave ſaw ſays ſcript ſea ſeat ſecond ſecret ſee ſeems ſeen ſenſe ſet ſeveral ſhades Shakeſpear ſhall ſhe ſhould ſide ſome ſomething ſon ſong ſonnet ſoon ſoul ſound ſpeaks Spenſer ſpirit ſpread ſtands ſtar ſtate ſtill ſtream ſtrength ſua ſub ſuch ſun ſuppoſe ſure ſweet thee theſe thoſe thou haſt Thyer tibi uſe verſes Virgil Warburton whoſe wiſe written at firſt
第70页 - As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
第69页 - Softly on my eyelids laid; And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, Or the unseen Genius of the wood. But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
第56页 - And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
第235页 - When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not ; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.
第68页 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
第186页 - Ay me ! I fondly dream ! Had ye been there — for what could that have done ? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself for her enchanting son...
第57页 - Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
第13页 - Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
第258页 - I am the Lord thy God, which brought Thee out of Egypt land ; Ask large enough, and I, besought, Will grant thy full demand.