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appear Arms bear Beauty Breaſt bright Care Cauſe Charms cou'd dare Dart dear Death Delight Deſire Earth ev'ry Eyes Face Fair fall fatal Fate fear Field Fire firſt Flame Force Friend gave gentle Gift give Gods Grace grow Hand happy Head Heart Heat Heav'n himſelf Hopes Jove kind laſt leave Light live Looks Love Lover mighty Mind moſt move Muſe muſt Name Nature never Night Nymph once Pain Paſſion Place Play pleaſing Pleaſure Poet Pow'r Rage reſt riſe round ſaid ſame Hand ſaw ſay ſee ſeems ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhining ſhou'd ſome Song Soul ſpeak ſtand ſtill ſuch Tears tell tender thee theſe things thoſe thou Thoughts thouſand thro turns vain Voice whoſe Winds wiſh Woods World wou'd Wound wretched Youth
Page 540 - At length he rais'd his head, and thus began To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain.
Page 6 - That on its public shows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb : Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies : And here the proud triumphal arches rise, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd.
Page 64 - The horses started with a sudden bound, And flung the reins and chariot to the ground ; The studded harness from their necks they broke ; Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke, Here were the beam and axle torn away ; And, scatter'd o'er the earth, the shining fragments lay.
Page 218 - IN vain you tell your parting lover, You wish fair winds may waft him over. Alas! what winds can happy prove, That bear me far from what I love ? Alas! what dangers on the main Can equal those that I sustain, From slighted vows, and cold disdain?
Page 10 - On foreign mountains may the sun refine The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine, With citron groves adorn a distant soil, And the fat olive swell with floods of oil ; We envy not the warmer clime that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent skies, Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine, Though o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine; Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile.
Page 211 - For, while she makes her silk-worms beds With all the tender things I swear ; Whilst all the house my passion reads, In papers round her baby's hair ; She may receive and own my flame, For, though...
Page 547 - Of women's yells, those stubborn souls disarm, Whom nor the sword nor trumpet e'er could fright, Nor the loud din and horror of a fight ? And you, our sires, who left your old abodes, And fix'd in foreign earth your country gods ; Will you without a...
Page 514 - The pointed jav'lin warded off his rage : Mad with his pains, and furious to engage, The serpent champs the steel, and bites the spear, Till blood and venom all the point besmear.