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Adam Amor angel appear arms atque bright bring brought cloud comes dark death deep doth Dunster dwell earth edition enemies eyes fair faith father fear give glory Gods hand hast hath head hear heard heart heav'n hill honour hope ipse keep king land late leave less light live look Lord lost mean mihi Milton's mind morn mortal never Newton night once peace Poems praise rest round Sams seat seek sight sing song sons soon soul Spirit stood strength sweet thee things thou thou art thou hast thought throne tibi till Todd true truth Virg virtue voice Warton winds wood
Сторінка 288 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Сторінка 292 - Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequered shade, And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday...
Сторінка 278 - Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use, Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint...
Сторінка 281 - But, hail ! thou Goddess sage and holy ! Hail, divinest Melancholy ! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above 20 The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers offended.
Сторінка 277 - Herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw, The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread : Besides what the grim Wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door, Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Сторінка 278 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears : Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Сторінка 292 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Сторінка 160 - To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, Within doors, or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own ; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half. O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day! O first created beam, and thou great Word, Let there be light, and light was over all; Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree?
Сторінка 360 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward.