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appear Arcite arms bear beauty began better blood born called cause Chaucer close court Cymon death designed desire Dryden EPISTLE equal eyes face fair fate father fear fight fire force formed fortune gave give given grace ground hand happy head heard heart heaven honour hope judge kind king knew knight lady learned leave length less light lines live look lord lost means mind nature never noble once pain Palamon pass person play pleased pleasure poem poet praise present prince pursue queen race raised remains rest seems seen side sight soon soul sound stood sweet tale tears thee thing thou thought took translated true turned verses virtue wife young youth
Page 188 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down.
Page 99 - FAREWELL, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine.
Page 187 - Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head ; As awaked from the dead, And amazad, he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Page 167 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead.
Page 207 - Milton was the poetical son of Spenser, and Mr. Waller of Fairfax ; for we have our lineal descents and clans, as well as other families. Spenser more than once insinuates that the soul of Chaucer was transfused into his body, and that he was begotten by him two hundred years after his decease.
Page 185 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure : Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain...
Page 190 - Thrice holy Fount, thrice holy Fire, Our hearts with heavenly love inspire: Come, and Thy sacred unction bring, To sanctify us while we sing.
Page 191 - Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe : Give us thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by thee. Immortal honour, endless fame, Attend the...