Letters Supposed to Have Passed Between M. de St. Evremond and Mr. Waller (Google eBook)

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P. and W. Wilson, 1769
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Page 128 - While in the park I sing, the listening deer Attend my passion, and forget to fear : When to the beeches I report my flame, They bow their heads, as if they felt the same. To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers, With loud complaints they answer me in showers. To thee a wild and cruel soul is given, More deaf than trees, and prouder than the Heaven...
Page 129 - This last complaint the indulgent ears did pierce Of just Apollo, president of verse ; Highly concerned that the Muse should...
Page 135 - tis not unlike the fame, Which I thither ought to fend. So that if it could take end, 'Twould to...
Page 131 - Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame, That if together ye fed all one flame, It could not equalize the hundredth part Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart...
Page 134 - Tis amazement more than love, Which her radiant eyes do move : If less splendour wait on thine, Yet they so benignly shine, I would turn my dazzled sight To behold their milder light. But as hard 'tis to destroy...
Page 131 - Embroidered so with flowers where she stood, That it became a garden of a wood. Her presence has such more than human grace, That it can civilize the rudest place: And beauty too, and order can impart, Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art. The plants acknowledge this, and her admire, No less than those of old did Orpheus...
Page 185 - Lord of my life, my future cares are thine, My love, my duty greet thy holy shrine : No more my heart to vainer hopes I give, But live for thee, whose bounty bids me live.
Page 128 - WHILE in this park I sing, the listening deer Attend my passion, and forget to fear; When to the beeches I report my flame. They bow their heads as if they felt the same. To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers With loud complaints, they answer me in showers. To thee a wild and cruel soul is given, More deaf than trees, and prouder than the heaven!
Page 132 - ... together ye fed all one flame, It could not equalize the hundredth part Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart ! Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark " Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark Of noble Sidney's birth ; when such benign, Such more than mortal-making stars did shine, That there they cannot but for ever prove The monument and pledge of humble love ; His humble love whose hope shall ne'er rise higher, Than for a pardon that he dares admire.
Page 135 - Amoret! as sweet and good As the most delicious food, Which, but tasted, does impart Life and gladness to the heart; Sacharissa's beauty's wine, Which to madness doth incline, Such a liquor, as no brain That is mortal can sustain.

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