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appear arms bear beauty breast breath bright bring comes court dear death delight desire dost doth earth eyes face fair fall fame fancy fate fear fire flame force gentle give grace grief ground grow half hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope keep kind king leave less light live look lost maid mind morn move Muse Nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pain passion plain play pleasure poets poor praise pride prove queen rest rise rose seen sense sight sing smile soft song soon soul sound stand swain sweet tears tell thee things thou thought true turn virtue winds wings wise woods young youth
Page 183 - Or let my lamp at midnight hour, Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft outwatch the Bear...
Page 189 - 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, 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 14 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 180 - Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait, And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes...
Page 223 - Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
Page 186 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity ; Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles.
Page 180 - But first, and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The Cherub Contemplation; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Less Philomel will deign a song, In her sweetest, saddest plight.
Page 163 - Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king. All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants, belong to thee ; All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice; Man for thee does sow and plow; Farmer he, and landlord thou ! Thou dost innocently joy, Nor does thy luxury destroy.
Page 216 - Art she had none, yet wanted none, For Nature did that Want supply: So rich in Treasures of her Own, She might our boasted Stores defy: Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn, That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born.