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appear bard bear beauty behold blest breath bright bring character charm court critics dark dead death deep delight dull earth eternal ev'ry fair fame fate fears feel fire fool genius give glorious glory grace grave hand happy hath head hear heart heav'n hope hour human immortal Jonson keep King Lady land leave light live Lord lost merry mind morn Muse nature never night o'er once pass passion play poet pow'r praise pride Prince prove rest rhyme rise sacred Satire scene Shakespeare sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit strain sweet taste tear tell thee thing thou thought town true truth turn vice virtue voice write youth
Page 117 - In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Page 62 - The Lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic. Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives...
Page 98 - A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Page 89 - While round the armed bands Did clap their bloody hands. He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try; Nor call'd the Gods, with vulgar spite, To vindicate his helpless right ; But bow'd his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Page 119 - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year: Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of Joy; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.
Page 62 - The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose : And on old Hyems' chin and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set.
Page 131 - Fortunate senex, ergo tua rura manebunt! et tibi magna satis, quamvis lapis omnia nudus limosoque palus obducat pascua iunco.
Page 82 - If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 62 - But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
Page 91 - That place, that does Contain my books, the best companions, is To me a glorious court, where hourly I Converse with the old sages and philosophers; And sometimes for variety I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account; and in my fancy, Deface their ill-placed statues.