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Page 244 - But, first, whom shall we send In search of this new world? whom shall we find Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet The dark, unbottom'd, infinite abyss, And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way? or spread his airy flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings, Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive The happy isle?
Page 287 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we...
Page 14 - The greenwood path to meet her brother: They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the Forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow!
Page 74 - Thou preparedst room before it, And didst cause it to take deep root, And it filled the land. The hills were covered with the shadow of it, And the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars. She sent out her boughs unto the sea, And her branches unto the river.
Page 371 - Commentaries remarks, that this law of Nature being coeval with mankind, and dictated by God himself, is of course superior in obligation to any other. It is binding over all the globe, in all countries and at all times; no human laws are of any validity if contrary to this, and such of them as are valid, derive all their force, and all their validity, and all their authority, mediately and immediately, from this original...
Page 263 - Less Philomel will deign a song In her sweetest saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke Gently o'er the accustomed oak; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!
Page 198 - To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came : and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions, Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, I day by day frequented silent groves, And solitary walks. One morning early This accident encounter'd me : I heard The sweetest and most ravishing contention That art and nature ever were at strife in.
Page 168 - The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn.