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art thou beauty Ben Jonson beneath bless blest bliss bowers breast breath bright call'd Canaan charms cloud Corydon Crazy Jane cries dark dear death deep delight doth drest dwell earth Eurydice Ev'n eyes fair faith fate fear flowers gentle glory glow grace grave Greece green grove hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hermit hope hour Hymettus John Barleycorn kings land learn'd light live look look'd Lord Lycidas lyre morn murmur Muse ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pass'd passion peace pity pleasure poor praise prayer pride rapture rest rill rise rose round scene seem'd shade shore sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring swain sweet Sweet Auburn tears tempest thee thine thou art thought Timotheus trembling virtue voice wandering wave weep winds wings youth
Page 106 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Page 144 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Page 53 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Page 256 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Page 75 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 232 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies.
Page 141 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered : We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition : And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here ; And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks That fought with us upon saint...
Page 256 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar : I love not man the less, but nature more...