The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Tom 22

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Strona 163 - And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Strona 160 - 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.
Strona 237 - As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Strona 164 - Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And like another Helen fired another Troy ! Thus long ago, Ere heaving bellows learned to blow, While organs yet were mute, Timotheus, to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage or kindle soft desire. At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame...
Strona 164 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother- wit, and arts unknown before.
Strona 159 - With flying fingers touched the lyre : The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, (Such is the power of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form belied the god : Sublime on radiant spires he rode, When he to fair Olympia...
Strona 162 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour, but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!
Strona 161 - The mighty mafter fmil'd to fee That love was in the next degree; 'Twas but a kindred found to move, For pity melts the mind to love.
Strona 237 - And bring all heav'n before mine eyes. And may at laft my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mofly cell, Where I may fit and rightly fpell 170 Of every ftar that heav'n doth mew, And every herb that fips the dew ; Till old experience do attain To fomething like prophetic ftrain.
Strona 158 - In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. CHORUS Happy...

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