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arms bard beam beauty bend beneath blank verse blaze bless blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright brow Cantos Chamber Stove charms cheek dark dear death dread Edward the Martyr EPIGRAM fade fair fame fancy fate feel fire flame flowers fond genius gloom glory glow grace grove hail harp hear heart heaven hope hour light Lord lov'd Lucy Aikin lyre maid MARY RUSSELL MITFORD mind Monody mourn Muse night numbers nymph o'er pale Pindar plain pleasure Poem poetical poetry praise pride proud racters rapture reign rose round sacred scene shade shore sigh Small 8vo smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit strain stream sweet swell talents tear Theatre Royal thee Theodore Edward Hook thine thou thro toil trembling Twas vale verse versification voice volume wave wild wing wonder youth
Seite 12 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Seite 13 - Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide : Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Seite 14 - Then to come in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, Or the twisted Eglantine...
Seite 562 - All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Seite 13 - We at length reached the spot, whence Milton undoubtedly took most of his images; it is on the top of the hill, from which there is a most extensive prospect on all sides: the distant mountains that seemed to support the clouds, the villages and turrets, partly shaded...
Seite 474 - THE .LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE. As, by some tyrant's stern command, A wretch forsakes his native land, In foreign climes condemn'd to roam An endless exile from his home...
Seite 49 - Art thou, my Gregory, for ever fled ! And am I left to unavailing woe ! When fortune's storms assail this weary. head, Where cares long since have shed untim'ely snow ! Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go ! No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. Tis meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh, my tears.
Seite 264 - And the Lord said unto him, This is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed : I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither.
Seite 14 - The poet's house was close to the church ; the greatest part of it has been pulled down, and what remains belongs to an adjacent farm. I am informed, that several papers, in Milton's own hand, were found by the gentleman who was last in possession of the estate.