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againſt alſo art thou awful bath beams Behold bids break breaſt breathing brow buſy calls ceaſed charm cities clouds corſe D'ARCY's Dart depart deſtruction earth Elſe vainly evil facred fad hour fair fall fall’n Fancy Fate fear flame flow gales glow golden grace grave grove hand head hear heart heaven Hell High houſe Hurld Deſolation o'er ideal immortal ISAIAH join Juſt King King of Babylon kingdoms laid land Lebanon light lone Lord Lyre Maid meet mind Muſe o'er o’er plain pomp poor Power Pride proud purpoſed realms reign riſe round rove rules ſacred ſay ſees ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhore ſmile Song ſoul ſpread ſtand ſtate ſtores ſtrain ſwear ſweets ſword thee theſe thine thou ſhalt thro throne tide tomb tongue Truth Verſe warbles wave weak whoſe Youth
Сторінка 22 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations.
Сторінка 30 - That I will break the Assyrian in my land, and upon my mountains tread him under foot: then shall his yoke depart from off them, and his burden depart from off their shoulders.
Сторінка 15 - For Fancy is the friend of Woe. Say, mid that grove, in love-lorn state...
Сторінка 24 - How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning ! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations ! For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds ; I will be like the most High.
Сторінка 26 - But thou art cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as the raiment of those that are slain, thrust through with a sword, that go down to the stones of the pit; as a carcase trodden under feet.
Сторінка 11 - Muses' vestal fires I bring : Here, at thy feet, the sparks I spread : Propitious wave thy wing, And fan them to that dazzling blaze of song, Which glares tremendous on the sons of Pride. But, hark ! methinks I hear her hallow'd tongue ! In...
Сторінка 23 - Rejoice thro' all their pomp of shade ; The lordly Cedars nod on sacred Lebanon : Tyrant ! they cry, since thy fell force is broke, Our proud heads pierce the skies, nor fear the woodman's stroke.
Сторінка 13 - That bloom'd those vocal shades among, " Where never Flatt'ry dar'd to tread, " Or Interest's servile throng ; " Receive, thou favour'd Son, at my command, " And keep, with sacred care, for D'ARCY'S brow : " Tell him, 'twas wove by my immortal hand, " I breath'd on every flower a purer glow; " Say, for thy sake I send the gift divine " To him, who calls thee HIS, yet makes thee MINB.
Сторінка 11 - Yet nourifh ftill the lambent flame ; " Still ftrike thy blamelefs Lyre : " Led by the moral Mufe fecurely rove ; " And all the vernal fweets thy vacant Youth " Can cull from bufy Fancy's fairy grove, " O hang their foliage round the fane of Truth : " To arts like thefe devote thy tuneful toil, " And meet its fair reward in D'ARCY'S fmile.