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appear arms bark bear blood breaſt bright charms clouds dame dear death divine Dryope earth eſt Eteocles eternal ev'ry eyes face fair fame fate feel feet fire firſt flames Fronde fury give Gods grace ground hair hand head heard heart heav'n honours IMITATIONS Jove joys kind King laſt late leaves leſs light live look Lord mihi mind move muſt night notes Nymph o'er once pleaſe pow'r quae quod race rage reign reſt riſe rocks ſaid ſaw ſay ſee ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſkies ſoft ſome ſon ſoul ſpread ſprings ſtate ſtill ſtood ſuch ſudden tears thee theſe thoſe thou thought thro throne tibi tree trembling Twas unhappy walls warm whoſe wife winds wretched youth
Seite 30 - Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence., and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Seite 30 - The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
Seite 59 - The figur'd games of Greece the column grace, Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race. The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run ; The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone ; The champions in distorted postures threat ; 220 And all appear'd irregularly great. Here happy Horace tun'd th...
Seite 35 - Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Seite 25 - Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Seite 33 - The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. I call aloud; it hears not what I say; I stretch my empty arms; it glides away: To dream once more I close my willing eyes; Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! 240 Alas no more!— methinks we wandring go Thro...
Seite 35 - When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll, And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priefts, tapers, temples, fwim before my fight : In feas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd, 275 While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.
Seite 27 - em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!