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admiration agreeable ancient Andrew Marvell animal appears Ariosto beauty Ben Jonson better called CHAPTER Chaucer death delight door doth dream earth eyes face Falstaff fancy father fear feel flowers genius gentle gentleman give graceful green happy head heart heaven horse human imagination Jonathan Wilds kind king knew lady Lazarillo Leatherhead lived look Lord lover master doctor melancholy Mickleham Milton mind Morgante morning nature never night noble Orlando Ovid pain Perfect Hand perhaps person Petrarch Phorbas piece pleasant pleasure poet queen reader river Mole Ronald round seems sense Shakspeare side sight Sir Philip Sydney sleep sort speak Spenser spirit stick story sweet taste tears tell thee Theocritus thing thou thought tion trees Triptolemus turned Vertumnus Virgil voice walk wife wish word young
Strana 12 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
Strana 182 - Sirens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of Gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, To lull the daughters of Necessity, And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear...
Strana 45 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war; Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Strana 197 - Saturn laughed and leaped with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell: Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did...
Strana 139 - This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Strana 45 - Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare...
Strana 87 - See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more ! Hither to work us weal ; Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel ! ' The western wave was all a-flame, The day was well-nigh done ! Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun ; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun.
Strana 203 - MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Strana 186 - The early cherry, with the later plum, Fig, grape, and quince, each in his time doth come ; The blushing apricot and woolly peach Hang on thy walls, that every child may reach.