Cowley. Denham. Milton. Butler. Rochester. Roscommon. Otway. Waller. Pomfret. Dorset. Stepney. J. Philips. WalshSamuel Johnson A. Miller, 1800 |
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Страница 19
... Tell me , ye mighty Three ! what shall I do To be like one of you ? But you have climb'd the mountain's top , there fit On the calm flourishing head of it , And , whilft with wearied fteps we upward go , and clouds , below . See us ...
... Tell me , ye mighty Three ! what shall I do To be like one of you ? But you have climb'd the mountain's top , there fit On the calm flourishing head of it , And , whilft with wearied fteps we upward go , and clouds , below . See us ...
Страница 26
... tell the politic arts To take and keep men's hearts ; The letters , embaffies , and fpics , The frowns , and fmiles , and flatteries , The quarrels , tears , and perjuries ( Numberlefs , nameless , mysteries ! ) And all the little lime ...
... tell the politic arts To take and keep men's hearts ; The letters , embaffies , and fpics , The frowns , and fmiles , and flatteries , The quarrels , tears , and perjuries ( Numberlefs , nameless , mysteries ! ) And all the little lime ...
Страница 50
... tell How I am plac'd , and who does in me dwell . Before my gate a street's broad channel goes , Which still with waves of crowding people flows ; And every day there paffes by my fide , Up to its western reach , the London tide , For ...
... tell How I am plac'd , and who does in me dwell . Before my gate a street's broad channel goes , Which still with waves of crowding people flows ; And every day there paffes by my fide , Up to its western reach , the London tide , For ...
Страница 66
... tell The moderate flames which in them dwell ; And either find fome medicine there , Or cure themselves ev'n by defpair ; My love's fo great , that it might prove Dangerous to tell her that I love . So tender is my wound , it must not ...
... tell The moderate flames which in them dwell ; And either find fome medicine there , Or cure themselves ev'n by defpair ; My love's fo great , that it might prove Dangerous to tell her that I love . So tender is my wound , it must not ...
Страница 70
... tell The joys which are to me unspeakable . SLEEP . TN vain , thou drowfy God ! I thee invoke ; For thou , who doft from fumes arife- Thou , who man's foul doft overfhade With a thick cloud by vapours made- Canft have no power to fhut ...
... tell The joys which are to me unspeakable . SLEEP . TN vain , thou drowfy God ! I thee invoke ; For thou , who doft from fumes arife- Thou , who man's foul doft overfhade With a thick cloud by vapours made- Canft have no power to fhut ...
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againſt Angels beafts becauſe befides beft beſt caft call'd caufe death defign defire doft doth earth elfe ev'n eyes facred fafe faid fair falfe fame fate fatire fear feat feek feem feen fenfe fent ferve feven fhall fhine fhould fide fight fince fing fire firft firſt flain flame fleep fome foon foul fpirits ftand ftars ftate ftill ftrange ftrength fuch fure fword glory hafte hand hath heart Heaven Hell himſelf honour Hudibras itſelf juft king laft laſt lefs live loft Lord mighty moft moſt Mufe muft muſt ne'er never night numbers o'er pafs paft perfon Pindar pleaſure prefent Quoth reafon reft rife Satan ſhall ſtand ſtate ſtill thee thefe themſelves theſe thine things thofe thoſe thou thought turn'd twas uſe vaft verfe Whilft whofe wife worfe
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Страница 132 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies That sing, and singing in their glory move And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Страница 29 - By none ; and if not equal all, yet free, Equally free ; for orders and degrees Jar not with liberty, but well consist.
Страница 130 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.