Odes and Sonnets, Illustrated |
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Page 21
... from year to year hast sung too late For my relief , yet hadst no reason why : Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate , Both them I serve , and of their train am I. MILTON . SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS . WHEN I consider how my. 21 ...
... from year to year hast sung too late For my relief , yet hadst no reason why : Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate , Both them I serve , and of their train am I. MILTON . SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS . WHEN I consider how my. 21 ...
Page 44
... Muse has drawn , Too free with servile courtly phrase to fawn , Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and corn , Nor views invite , since he far distant strays , With whom I traced their ...
... Muse has drawn , Too free with servile courtly phrase to fawn , Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and corn , Nor views invite , since he far distant strays , With whom I traced their ...
Page 58
... Muse shall own thee for her mate , And still protect the song she loves so well . With cautious step the love - lorn youth shall glide Thro ' the lone brake that shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd - girls from eyes profane shall hide ...
... Muse shall own thee for her mate , And still protect the song she loves so well . With cautious step the love - lorn youth shall glide Thro ' the lone brake that shades thy mossy nest ; And shepherd - girls from eyes profane shall hide ...
Page 62
... , My roving genius binds in Gothic chains ; Nor can the cloister'd Muse expand her wing , Nor bid these twilight roofs with her gay carols ring . WARTON . ODE TO VERTUE . WEET day , so cool , 62 63 ODES AND SONNETS .
... , My roving genius binds in Gothic chains ; Nor can the cloister'd Muse expand her wing , Nor bid these twilight roofs with her gay carols ring . WARTON . ODE TO VERTUE . WEET day , so cool , 62 63 ODES AND SONNETS .
Page 76
... Muse shall sit , and think ( At ease reclined in rustic state ) How vain the ardour of the Crowd , How low , how little are the Proud , How indigent the Great ? Still is the toiling hand of Care : The panting herds repose : PAZIEN Eager ...
... Muse shall sit , and think ( At ease reclined in rustic state ) How vain the ardour of the Crowd , How low , how little are the Proud , How indigent the Great ? Still is the toiling hand of Care : The panting herds repose : PAZIEN Eager ...
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Common terms and phrases
airy BAMPFYLDE beam bids bloom bough bowers breath breeze BRIGHT MORNING STAR buds calm CHARLOTTE SMITH clouds cowslips DAISY dance dear delight dewy dost doth drest DRUMMOND EARL OF SURREY fair flocks flowers fragrant gale give my love gleam gray green grove hail HARVEST MOON hast hath hear heart heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE HERRICK hills light lone love good-morrow lovers May-pole mead meadows MILTON MOON of harvest morn MOUNTAIN DAISY murmur Muse nature's Neath night NIGHTINGALE ODES AND SONNETS pale peace pensive purple REDBREAST rill RIVER TRENT robe rose round rove rustic shade SHAKSPEARE shrill sigh silent sing SIR PHILIP SIDNEY smile soft song sorrow SOUTHEY Spenser Spring star Stella storm stream Sweet bird TEMPEST thee thine Thou merry month thro THRUSH thy modest trembling vale wake wander warbles Warton waves wild winds wing WINSLADE Winter woods WORDSWORTH
Popular passages
Page 26 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Page 18 - FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy, leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace, And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain.
Page 26 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene, Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams.
Page 25 - If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs, and dying gales...
Page 106 - A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love.
Page 12 - The schoolboy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another Spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year ! O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
Page 94 - I'll borrow. Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast, Sing birds in every furrow ; And from each hill, let music shrill Give my fair Love good-morrow ! Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow ! You pretty elves, amongst yourselves Sing my fair Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Sing birds in every furrow ! T.
Page 90 - Sleepless ! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees ; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep ! by any stealth : So do not let me wear...
Page 94 - Sweet air, blow soft ; mount, lark, aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow : Bird, prune thy wing ! nightingale, sing ! To give my Love good-morrow ! To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them all I'll borrow.
Page 27 - Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO PEACE.