The Poetical Works of John Milton: With a Memoir and Critical Remarkds on His Genius and Writings, Հատոր 2

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Էջ 207 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm; Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear...
Էջ 206 - 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...
Էջ 142 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame ; nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Էջ 229 - The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Էջ 205 - Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring, Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure. But first, and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon...
Էջ 241 - 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.
Էջ 202 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Էջ 218 - God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureate wreath.
Էջ 198 - 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.
Էջ 195 - Herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw, The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim Wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door, Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

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