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Стр. 313 - With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, And ye five other wand'ring fires that move In mystic dance not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Стр. 314 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Стр. 404 - The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; The merchant from th' Exchange returns in peace, And the long labours of the toilet cease.
Стр. 63 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Стр. 310 - To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song ; now reigns Full Orb'd the Moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain, If none regard; Heav'n wakes with all his eyes, Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire, In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.
Стр. 407 - He takes the gift with rev'rence, and extends The little engine on his fingers' ends ; This just behind Belinda's neck he spread, As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. Swift to the lock a...
Стр. 408 - T' inclose the Lock; now joins it, to divide. Ev'n then, before the fatal engine clos'd, A wretched Sylph too fondly interpos'd; 150 Fate urg'd the shears, and cut the Sylph in twain, (But airy substance soon unites again) The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, for ever, and for ever ! Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes, And screams of horror rend th
Стр. 406 - What boots the regal circle on his head, His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread; That long behind he trails his pompous robe, And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe? The baron now his diamonds pours apace; Th...
Стр. 409 - What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date, And monuments, like men, submit to fate ! Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy, And strike to dust th' imperial tow'rs of Troy; Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, And hew triumphal arches to the ground.