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Page 157 - Now glow'd the firmament With living sapphires : Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
Page 14 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 155 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
Page 180 - O Nature boon, from whom proceed Each forceful thought, each prompted deed; If but from thee I hope to feel, On all my heart imprint thy seal...
Page 155 - But now the sounds of population fail, No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread, For all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
Page 43 - midst the chase, on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell ; Each lonely scene shall thee restore ; For thee the tear be duly shed ; Belov'd till life can charm no more, And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.
Page 225 - Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; In wit, a man ; simplicity, a child ; With native humour temp'ring virtuous rage, Form'd to delight at once and lash the age ; Above temptation, in a low estate ; And uncorrupted...
Page 88 - But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong...
Page 104 - Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd ; Sad proof of thy distressful state ; Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd, And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate.