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ancient beauty become begin bells born bright bring called Cambridge clouds colours course dark doth dream early echoing eyes Fame fellow flocks flowers flowing fresh give goddess graceful grave hand hath head hear Heav'n hill hold holy Horn hues introduce Jove King L'ALLEGRO land leaves light listen live look Lycidas Melancholy Milton Milton's Mirth Morn mountains mourn Muse never night oaks opening Orpheus pale Penseroso perhaps pleasures poems poet poetry reference rest rising rivers rose round scenes shade shepherds shore sing sister sleep Sometimes song soul sound spirit stars stories strains stream studies sweet tears tell thee thou art thought till trees turn Virg walk waves weep wild winds woods young
Página 19 - 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, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Página 9 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Página 3 - Come pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of cypress lawn, Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Página 11 - And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 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...
Página 7 - 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.
Página 5 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
Página 11 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And, singing, startle the dull night From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Página 1 - Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus