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Стр. 206 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Стр. 118 - Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good, of the elements
Стр. 200 - And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among? And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus? Say nay! say nay!
Стр. 187 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting. martlet, does approve, By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, The air is delicate.
Стр. 71 - Waller was smooth ; but Dryden taught to join The varying verse, the full resounding line, The long majestic march, and energy divine : Though still some traces of our rustic vein And splay-foot verse remain'd, and will remain.
Стр. 198 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung but by some blind crowder, with no rougher voice than rude style...
Стр. 66 - Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad...
Стр. 66 - And worthy seemed, for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom...
Стр. 29 - O be not angry with those fires, For then their threats will kill me ; Nor look too kind on my desires, For then my hopes will spill me. O do not steep them in thy tears, For so will sorrow slay me; Nor spread them as distract with fears; Mine own enough betray me.