The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper

Yet these are all their gods, to whom they vie
The crocodile, the cock, the rat the fly,
Fit gods, indeed, for such men to be served by.
The fire, the wind, the sea, the Sun, and Moon,
The fitting air, and the swift-winged hours,
And all the watchmen, that so nimbly run,
And sentinel about the walled towers

Of the world's city, in their heavenly bowers.
And, lest their pleasant gods should want delight,
Neptune spues out the lady Aphrodite, [light.
And but in Heav'n proud Juno's peacocks scorn to
"The senseless earth, the serpent, dog, and cat,
And worse than all these, man, and worst of men
Usurping Jove, and swelling Bacchus fat,
And drunk wth the vine's purple blood, and then
The fiend himself they conjure from his den,

Because he only yet remain'd to be

Worse than the worst of men, they flee from
thee,
[knee.

And wear his altar-stones out with their pliant
"All that he speaks (and all he speaks are lies)
Are oracles; 'tis he (that wounded all)
Cures all their wounds; he (that put out their eyes)
That gives them light; he (that death first did call
Into the world) that with his orisal,

Inspirits earth: he Heav'n's all-seeing eye,
He Earth's great prophet, he, whom rest doth fly,
That on salt billows doth, as pillows, sleeping lie.
“But let him in his cabin restless rest,
The dungeon of dark flames, and freezing fire,
Justice in Heav'n against man makes request
To God, and of his angels doth require
Sin's punishment: if what I did desire,

Or who, or against whom, or why, or where,
Of, or before whom ignorant I were,

Then should my speech their sands of sins to mountains rear.

"Were not the Heav'ns pure, in whose courts I sue,
The judge, to whom I sue, just to requite him,
The cause for sin, the punishment most due,
Justice herself, the plaintiff to endite him,
The angels holy, before whom I cite him,

He against whom, wicked, unjust, impure;
Then might he sinful live, and die secure,
Or trial might escape, or trial might endure.
"The judge might partial be, and over-pray'd,
The place appeal'd from, in whose courts he sues,
The fault excus'd, or punishment delay'd,
The parties self-accus'd, that did accuse,
Angels for pardon might their prayers use:
But now no star can shine, no hope be got.
Most wretched creature, if he knew his lot, [not.
And yet more wretched far, because he knows it
What should I tell how barren Earth has grown,
All for to starve her children? didst not thou
Water with heav'nly show'rs her womb unsown,
And drop down clods of flow'rs? didst not thou
The easy ear unto the ploughman's vow? [bow
Long might he look, and look, and long in vain
Might load his harvest in an empty wain, [grain.
And beat the woods, to find the poor oak's hungry
The swelling sea seethes in his angry waves, [rish;
And suites the earth that dares the traitors nou-
Yet oft his thunder their light cork outbraves,
Mowing the mountains, on whose temples flourish
Whole woods of garlands; and, their pride to
cherish,

料

Plough through the sea's green fields, and nets

display

To catch the flying winds, and steal away, [prey. Coz'ning the greedy sea, pris'ning their nimble "How often have I seen the waving pine, Toss'd on a wat'ry mountain, knock his head At Heav'n's too patient gates, and with salt brine Quench the Moon's burning horns; and safely fled From Heaven's revenge, her passengers, all dead With stiff astonishment, tumble to Hell? How oft the sea all earth would overswell, Did not thy sandy girdle bind the mighty well? "Would not the air he fill'd with streams of death, To poison the quick rivers of their blood? Did not thy winds fan, with their panting breath, The flitting region? would not th' hasty flood Empty itself into the sea's wide wood:

Didst not thou lead it wand'ring from his way, To give men drink, and make his waters stray, To fresh the flow'ry meadows, through whose fields they play?

"Who makes the sources of the silver fountains
From the flint's mouth, and rocky vallies slide,
Thick'ning the airy bowels of the mountains?
Who hath the wild herds of the forest ty'd
In their cold dens, making them hungry bide

Till man to rest be laid? can beastly he,
That should have most sense, only senseless be,
And all things else, beside himself, so awful see?
"Were he not wilder than the savage beast,
Prouder than haughty hills, harder than rocks,
Colder than fountains from their springs releast,
Lighter than air, blinder than senseless stocks,
More changing than the river's curling locks:
If reason would not, sense would soon reprove
him,

To see cold floods, wild beasts, dull stocks, hard And unto shame, if not to sorrow move him,

stones out-love him.

"Under the weight of sin the earth did fall,
And swallow'd Dathan, and the raging wind,
And stormy sea, and gaping whale, did call
For Jonas: and the air did bullets find,
And shot from Heav'n a stony show'r to grind :

The five proud kings, that for their idols fought,
The Sun itself stood still to fight it out,
And fire from Heav'n flew down, when sin to Heav'n
did shout.

"Should any to himself for safety fly?
Were to fly from himself: should he rely
The way to save himself, if any were,
Upon the promise of his wife? but there
What can he see, but that he most may fear,
A Siren, sweet to death? upon his friends?
Who that he needs, or that he hath not lends?
Or wonting aid himself aid to another sends ?
"His strength? but dust: his pleasure? cause of pain
His hope? false courtier: youth or beauty? brittle:
Entreaty? fond: repentance? late and vain:
Thy love? he hath no title to a title :
Just recompence? the world were all too little :

Hell's force? in vain her furies Hell shall gather:
is child, if good, shall judge; if bad, shall curse
His servants, kinsmen, or his children rather?

his father.

"His life? that brings him to his end, and leaves [him: His end? that leaves him to begin his wo: His goods? what good in that, that so deceives him? His gods of wood? their feet, alas! are slow To go to help, that must be help'd to go:

Honour, great worth? ah! little worth they be
Unto their owners: wit? that makes him see
He wanted wit, that thought he had it, wanting
thee.

"The sea to drink him quick? that casts his dead:
Angels to spare? they punish: night to hide?
The world shall burn in light: the Heav'ns to spread
Their wings to save him? Heav'n itself shall slide,
And roll away like melting stars that glide

Along their oily threads: his mind pursues him: His house to shroud, or hills to fall, and bruise him?

As serjeants both attach, and witnesses accuse him.
"What need I urge what they must needs confess?
Sentence on them, condemn'd by their own lust;
I crave no more, and thou can'st give no less,
Than death to dead men, justice to unjust;
Shame to most shameful, and most shameless dast:
But if thy mercy needs will spare her friends,
Let mercy there begin, where justice ends.
'Tis cruel mercy, that the wrong from right defends."
She ended, and the heav'nly hierarchies,
Burning in zeal, thickly imbranded were ;
Like to an army that alarum cries,
And every one shakes his ydreaded spear,
And the Almighty's self, as he would tear

The Earth, and her firm basis quite in sunder, Flam'd all in just revenge, and mighty thunder: Heav'n stole itself from Earth by clouds that moisten'd under.

As when the cheerful Sun, elamping wide,
Glads all the world with his uprising ray,
And woos the widow'd Earth afresh to pride,
And paints her bosom with the flow'ry May,
His silent sister steals him quite away,

Wrapt in a sable cloud, from mortal eyes,
The hasty stars at noon begin to rise,
And headlong to his early roost the sparrow flies:

But soon as he again dishadowed is,
Restoring the blind world his blemish'd sight,
As though another day were newly his,
The coz'ned birds busily take their flight,
And wonder at the shortness of the night:
So Mercy once again herself displays
Out from her sister's cloud, and open lays
Those sunshine looks, whose beams would dim a
thousand days.

How may a worm, that crawls along the dust,
Clamber the azure mountains, thrown so high,
And fetch from thence thy fair idea just,
That in those sunny courts doth hidden lie,
Cloth'd with such light, as blinds the angels' eye
How may weak mortal ever hope to fill

His unsmooth tongue, and his deprostrate style? O, raise thou from his corse thy now entomb'd

exile!

One touch would rouse me from my sluggish herse,
One word would call me to my wished home,
One look would polish my afflicted verse, [lome,
One thought would steal my soul from her thick
And force it wand'ring up to Heav'n to come,

There to importune, and to beg apace [face. One happy favour of thy sacred grace, To see (what though it lose her eyes?) to see thy If any ask why roses please the sight? Because their leaves upon thy cheeks do bow'r: If any ask why lilies are so white? Because their blossoms in thy hand do flow'r: Or why sweet plants so grateful odours show'r ? It is because thy breath so like they be: Or why the orient Sun so bright we see? [thee? What reason can we give, but from thine eyes, Ros'd all in lively crimson are thy cheeks, Where beauties indeflourishing abide, And, as to pass his fellow either seeks, Seems both to blush at one another's pride: And on thine eyelids, waiting thee beside,

and

Ten thousand Graces sit, and when they more To Earth their amorous belgards from above, They fly from Heav'n, and on their wings convey thy love.

And of discolour'd plumes their wings are made,
And with so wond'rous art the quills are wrought,
That whensoever they cut the airy glade,
The wind into their hollow pipes is caught:
As seems, the spheres with them they down have
Like to the seven-fold reed of Arcady, [brought:
Which Pan of Syrinx made, when she did fly
To Ladon sands, and at his sighs sung merrily.
As melting honey dropping from the comb,
So still the words, that spring between thy lips,
Thy lips, where smiling sweetness keeps her home,
And heav'nly eloquence pure manna sips.
He that his pen but in that fountain dips,

How nimbly will the golden phrases fly,
And shed forth streams of choicest rhetory,
Wailing celestial torrents out of poesy?

Like as the thirsty land, in summer's heat,
Calls to the clouds, and gapes at every show'r,
As though her hungry cliffs all heav'n would eat;
Which if high God unto her bosom pour,
Though much refresh'd, yet more she could devour:
So hang the greedy ears of angels sweet,
And every breath a thousand Cupids meet,
Some flying in, some out, and all about her feet.
Upon her breast Delight doth softly sleep,
And of Eternal Joy is brought abed;
Those snowy mountlets, thorough which do creep
The milky rivers, that are inly bred
In silver cisterns, and themselves do shed
To weary travellers, in heat of day,
To quench their fiery thirst, and to allay
With dropping nectar floods, the fury of their way.
If any wander, thou dost call him back:
If any be not forward, thou incit'st him:
Thou dost expect, if any should grow slack:
If any seem but willing, thou invit'st him :
Or if he do offend thee, thou acquitt's: him :
Thou find'st the lost, and follow'st him that flies,
Healing the sick, and quick'ning him that dies:
Thou art the lame man's friendly staff, the blind

man's eyes.

So fair thou art, that all would thee behold;
But none can thee behold, thou art so fair:
Pardon, O pardon then thy vassal bold,
That with poor shadows strives thee to compare,
And match the things which he knows matchless are.

O thou vile mirṛour of celestial grace,

How can frail colours pourtray out thy face,
Or paint in flesh thy beauty, in such semblance base?
Her upper garment was a silken lawn,
With needle-work richly embroidered;
Which she herself with her own hand had drawn,
And all the world therein had pourtrayed,
With threads so fresh and lively coloured,

That seem'd the world she new created there;
And the mistaken eye would rashly swear
The silken trees did grow, and the beasts living were.
Low at her feet the Earth was cast alone
(As though to kiss her foot it did aspire,
And gave itself for her to tread upon)
With so unlike and different attire,
That every one that saw it, did admire
What it might be, was of so various hue ;
For to itself it oft so diverse grew,
[new.
That still it seem'd the same, and still it seem'd a
And here and there few men she scattered,
That in their thought the world esteem but small,
And themselves great) but she with one fine thread
So short, and small, and slender wove them all,
That like a sort of busy ants that crawl

About some mole-hill, so they wandered;
And round about the waving sea was shed:
But for the silver sands, small pearls were sprinkled.

So curiously the underwork did creep,
And earling circlets so well shadowed lay,
That afar off the waters seem'd to sleep.;
But those that near the margin pearl did play,
Hoarsely enwaved were with hasty sway,

As though they meant to rock the gentle ear,
And bush the former that enslumber'd were:
And here a dangerous rock the flying ships did fear.
Kigh in the airy element there hung
Another cloudy sea, that did disdain

As though his purer waves from Heaven sprung)
To crawl on Earth, as doth the sluggish main;
But it the Earth would water with his rain, [would,
That ebb'd, and flow'd, as wind, and season
And oft the Sun would cleave the limber mould.
To alabaster rocks, that in the liquid roll'd.
Beneath those sunny banks, a darker cloud,
Dropping with thicker dew, did melt apace,
And bent itself into a hollow shroud :
On which, if Mercy did but cast her face,
A thousand colours did the bow enchace,

That wonder was to see the silk distain'd
With the resplendence from her beauty gain'd,
And Iris paint her locks with beams, so lively
feign'd.

About her head a cypress heav'n she wore,
Spread like a veil, upheld with silver wire,
In which the stars so burnt in golden ore,
As seem'd the azure web was all on fire:
But bastily, to quench their sparkling ire,
A flood of milk came rolling up the shore,
That on his curded wave swift Argus wore,
And the immortal swan, that did her life deplore.

Yet strange it was, so many stars to see
Without a sun, to give their tapers light:

Yet strange it was not that it so should be:

For, where the Sun centres himself by right,

Her face, and locks did flame, that at the sight,
VOL VI.

Over her hung a canopy of state,
Not of rich tissue, nor of spangled gold,
But of a substance, though not animate,
Yet of a heav'nly and spiritual mould,
That only eyes of spirits might behold:

Such light as from main rocks of diamond,
Shooting their sparks at Phoebus, would rebound:
And little angels, holding hands, danc'd all around.
Scemed those little sp'rits, through nimbles bold,
The stately canopy bore on their wings;
But them itself, as pendants did uphold,
Besides the crowns of many famous kings:
Among the rest, there David ever sings:

[lays

And now, with years grown young, renews his
Unto his golden harp, and ditties plays, [praise.
Psalming aloud in well-tun'd songs his Maker's
Thou self-idea of all joys to come,
Whose love is such, would make the rudest speak,
Whose love is such, would make the wisest dumb;
O when wilt thou thy too long silence break,
And overcome the strong to save the weak!
If thou no weapons hast, thine eyes will wound
Th' Almighty's self, that now stick on the
ground,
[impound.
As though some blessed object there did them
Ah, miserable object of disgrace,
What happiness is in thy misery!

I both must pity, and envy thy case;
For she, that is the glory of the sky,
Leaves Heaven blind to fix on thee her eye:
Yet her (though Mercy's self esteems not small)
The world despis'd, they her Repentance call,
And she herself despises, and the world, and all.
Deeply, alas! empassioned she stood,
To see a flaming brand toss'd up from Hell,
Boiling her heart in her own lustful blood,
That oft for torment she would loudly yell,
Now she would sighing sit, and now she fell

Crouching upon the ground, in sackcloth trust :
Early and late she pray'd; and fast she must ;
And all her hair hung full of ashes, and of dust.
Of all most hated, yet hated most of all
Of her own self she was; disconsolate
(As though her flesh did but infuneral
Her buried ghost) she in an harbour sat
Of thorny briar, weeping her cursed state :
And her before a hasty river fled,

Which her blind eyes with faithful penance fed, And all about, the grass with tears hung down his head.

Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast,
Inwards they turn'd, and look'd into her head,
At which she often started, as aghast,
To see so fearful spectacles of dread;
And with one hand her breast she martyred,
Wounding her heart, the same to mortify,
The other a fair damsel held her by:
Which if but once let go, she sunk immediately.
But Faith was quick, and nimble as the Heav'n,
As if of love and life she all had been:

And though of present sight her sense were reav'n,
Yet she could see the things could not be seen..
Beyond the stars, as nothing were between,

She fix'd her sight, disdaining things below:
Into the sea she could a mountain throw, [flow.
And make the Sun to stand, and waters backwards
Such when as Mercy her beheld from high,
In a dark valley, drown'd with her own tears,
One of her Graces she sent hastily,
Smiling Eyrene, that a garland wears
Of guilded olive on her fairer hairs,

To crown the fainting soul's true sacrifice:
Whom when as sad Repentance coming spies,
The holy desperado wip'd her swollen eyes.

But Mercy felt a kind remorse to run
Through her soft veins, and therefore hying fast
To give an end to silence, thus begun:

Aye honour'd father, if no joy thou hast
But to reward desert, reward at last

The devil's voice, spoke with a serpent's tongue,
Fit to hiss out the words so deadly stung, [sung.
And let him die, death's bitter, charms so sweetly
"He was the father of that hopeless season,
That, to serve other gods, forgot their own.
The reason was, thou wast above their reason.
They would have other gods, rather than none,
A beastly serpent, or a senseless stone :

And these, as Justice hates, so I deplore.

But the up-ploughed heart, all rent and tore,
Though wounded by itself, I gladly would restore.
"He was but dust; why fear'd be not to fall?
And being fall'n, how can he hope to live?
Cannot the hand destroy him, that made all?
Could he not take away as well as give?
Should man deprave, and should not God deprive?
Was it not all the world's deceiving spirit,
(That, bladder'd up with pride of his own merit,
Fell in his rise) that him of Heav'n did disinherit?
"He was but dust: how could be stand before him?
And being fall'n, why should he fear to die?
Cannot the hand that made him first restore him?
Deprav'd of sin, should he deprived lie
Of grace? can he not find infirmity,

[saking,

That gave him strength? unworthy the for-
He is, who ever weighs, without mistaking,
Or maker of the man, or manner of his making.

"Who shall thy temple incense any more ;
Or to thy altar crown the sacrifice;

Or strew with idle flow'rs the hallow'd floor?
Or what should prayer deck with herbs, and spice,
Her vials, breathing orisons of price?

If all must pay that which all cannot pay,
O first begin with me, and Mercy slay, [stray.
And thy thrice honour'd Son, that now beneath doth
But if or be, or I may live, and speak,
And Heav'n can joy to see a sinner weep;
Oh! let not Justice' iron sceptre break
A heart already broke, that low doth creep,
And with prone humbless her feet's dust doth
sweep.

Must all go by desert? is nothing free?
Ah! if but those that only worthy be, [see.
None should thee ever see, none should thee ever

What hath man done, that man shall not undo,
Since God to him is grown so near a-kin?
Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe:
Hath be lost all? he all again shall win :
Ps sin his master? he shall ungster sin :

Too hardy soul, with sin the field to try:
The only way to conquer, was to fly;

But thus long death hath liv'd, and now death's
self shall die.

"He is a path, if any be misled;

He is a robe, if any naked be;

If any chance to hunger, he is bread;
If any be a bondman, he is free;

If any be but weak, how strong is he?

To dead men life he is, to sick men health:
To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth;
A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth.
"Who can forget, never to be forgot,
The time, that all the world in slumber lies:
When, like the stars, the singing angels shot
To Earth, and Heav'n awaked all his eyes,
To see another Sun at midnight rise

On Earth? was never sight of peril fame :
For God before, man like himself did frame,
But God himself now like a mortal man became.
"A child he was, and had not learn'd to speak,
That with his word the world before did make :
His mother's arms him bore, he was so weak,
That with one hand the vaults of Heav'n could
shake.

See how small room my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold.
Who of his years, or of his age hath told?
Never such age so young, never a child so old.
"And yet but newly he was infanted,
And yet already he was sought to die;
Yet scarcely born, already banished;
Not able yet to go, and forc'd to fly:
But scarcely fled away, when by and by,

The tyrant's sword with blood is all defil'd,
And Rachel, for her sons with fury wild,
Cries, 'O thou cruel king, and O my sweetest child!”
"Egypt his nurse became, where Nilus springs,
Who straight, to entertain the rising Sun,
The hasty harvest in his bosom brings;
But now for drought the fields were all undone,
And now with waters all is overrun :

[snow,

So fast the Cynthian mountains pour'd their
When once they felt the Sun so near them glow,
That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did grow.
"The angels caroll'd loud their song of peace,
The cursed oracles were strucken dumb,
To see their Shepherd, the poor shepherds press,
To see their King, the kingly sophies come,
And them to guide unto his Master's home,
A star comes dancing up the orient,
That springs for joy over the strawy tent,
Where gold, to make their prince a crown, they

all present.

"Young John, glad child, before he could be born,
Leapt in the womb, his joy to prophesy:
Old Anna, though with age all spent and worn,
Proclaims her Saviour to posterity:
And Simeou fast his dying notes doth ply.

Oh, how the blessed souls about him trace!
It is the fire of Heav'n thou dost embrace:
Sing Simeon, sing, sing Simeon, sing apace."
With that the mighty thunder dropt away
From God's unwary arm, now milder grown,
And melted into tears; as if to pray
For pardon, and for pity, it had known,
That should have been for sacred vengeance thrown:

There too the armies angelic devow'd
Their former rage, and all to Mercy bow'd,
Their broken weapons at her feet they gladly
strow'd.

"Bring, bring, ye Graces, all your silver flaskets,
Painted with every choicest flow'r that grows,
That I may soon unflow'r your fragrant baskets,
To strow the fields with odours where he goes,
Let whatsoe'er he treads on be a rose."
So down she let her eyelids fall, to shime
Upon the rivers of bright Palestine, Iwine.
Whose woods drop honey, and her rivers skip with

CHRIST'S TRIUMPH ON EARTH.

THE ARGUMENT.

Christ brought into the place of combat, the wildemess, among the wild beasts, Mark i. 13. ver. 1. Described by his proper attribute, the mercy of God, ver. 2, 3.; whom the creatures cannot but adore, ver. 4, 5. By his unity with the Godhead, ver. 6. His proper place, ver. 7. The beauty of his body, Cant. v. 11. Psal. xlv. 2 Gen. xlix. 12. Caut. v. 10. and Isai. ii. 2. ver. 8-13. By preparing himself to the combat with his adversary, that seemed what he was not, ver. 14, 15. Some devout essence, ver. 18-19. (Closely tempting him to despair of God's providence, and provide for himself) Ter. 20. But was what he seemeth not, Satan, and would fain have led him, 1st, To desperaton; charactered by his place, countenance, apparel, horrible apparitions, &c. ver. 21-30. 24, To Presumption; charactered by her place, attendants, &c. ver. 31-36.; and by her temptation, 37.; to vain glory, ver. 38.; poetically described from the place where her court stood; a garden, ver. 39-49.; from her court, and courtiers, ver. 50.; pleasure in drinking, ver. 51; in luxury, ver. 52. 2d, Avarice, ver. 53-55. 3d, Ambitious honour, ter. 55.; from her throne, and from her temptation, ver. 57-59. The effect of this victory in Satan, ver. 60.; the angels, ver. 61.; the creatures, ver. 62.

Seemed that man had them devoured all,
Whom to devour the beasts did make pretence;
Put him their salvage thirst did nought appal,
Though weapons none he had for his defence:
What arms for innocence, but innocence ?

For when they saw their Lord's bright cognizance
Shine in his face, soon did they disadvance,
And some unto him kneel, and some about him
dance.

Down fell the lordly lion's angry mood,
And he himself fell down in congies low;
Bidding him welcome to his wasteful wood.
Sometime he kist the grass where he did go,
And, as to wash his feet he well did know,

With fawning tongue he lickt away the dust,
And every one would nearest to him thrust,
And every one, with new, forgot his former lust.
Unmindful of himself, to mind his Lord,
The lamb stood gazing by the tyger's side,
As though between them they had made accord,
And on the lion's back the goat did ride,
Forgetful of the roughness of the hide.

If he stood still, their eyes upon him ba'ted, If walkt, they all in order on him waited, And when he slept, they as his watch themselves

conceited.

Wonder doth call me up to see: O no,
I cannot see, and therefore sink in wonder,
The man that shines as bright as God, not so,
For God he is himself, that close lies under
That man, so close, that no time can dissunder
That band; yet not so close, but from him break
Such beams, as mortal eyes are all too weak
Such sight to see, or it, if they should see, to speak.
Upon a grassy hillock he was laid,
With woody primroses befreckled:
Over his head the wanton shadows played
Of a wild olive, that her boughs so spread,
As with her leaves she seem'd to crown his head,
And her green arms t' embrace the Prince of
Peace:

The Sun so near, needs must the winter cease,
The Sun so near, another spring seem'd to increase.
His hair was black, and in small curls did twine,
As though it were the shadow of some light,
And underneath his face, as day, did shine;
But sure the day shined not half so bright,
Nor the Sun's shadow made so dark a night.
Under his lovely locks her head to shroud,
Did make Humility herself grow proud:
Hither, to light their lamps, did all the Graces
crowd.

One of ten thousand souls I am, and more,
That of his eyes, and their sweet wounds, complain;
Sweet are the wounds of Love, never so sore,
Ah, might he often slay me so again!
He never lives, that thus is never slain.

What boots it watch? Those eyes, for all my art, Mine own eyes looking on, have stole my heart: In them. Love bends his bow, and dips his burning dart.

As when the Sun, caught in an adverse cloud,
Flies cross the world, and there anew begets
The watry picture of his beauty proud,
Throws all abroad his sparkeling spanglets,
And the whole world in dire amazement sets,

« Предыдущая Продолжить »

Книги

The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper, Том 6