...twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude ax with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,...covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hi-1,- in.- fn.nul •!>•••! ¿a risheye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery...

...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves : And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rnde axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to dannt, Or fright them from their...

...the gust hath blown bis fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. rot i f dec t n i 'd ama Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Wias never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...the enthusiasm which Milton owned, when he addressed the pensive inspirer of his earliest strains : When the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me,...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...

...the enthusiasm which Milton owned, when he addressed the pensive inspirer of his earliest Strains: When the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me,...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...

...lark bade good-morrow at the poet's window, through sweet-briars, honeysuckles, and vines, spreadAnd when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me...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...

...the enthusiasm which Milton owned, when he addressed the pensive inspirer of his earliest strains: When the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me,...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...

...poet's window, through sweet-briars, honeysuckles, and vines, spreadAnd when the sun begins to»fting His flaring beams, me Goddess bring To arched walks...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...

...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heased stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And, when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...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...