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Стр. 74 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Стр. 131 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Стр. 163 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Стр. 137 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine, Or what (though rare) of later age, Ennobled hath the buskined stage. But O, sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
Стр. 32 - Thou sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?
Стр. 78 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Стр. 25 - O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god Of this new World — at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads — to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere, Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King!
Стр. 167 - Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, For him as kindly spread the flow'ry lawn: Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
Стр. 76 - Lot forbad : nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin'd ; Forbad to wade through Slaughter to a Throne, And...