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Page 168 - Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that. You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Page 101 - No war, or battle's sound, Was heard the world around : The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.
Page 277 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Page 176 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.
Page 111 - As bees In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer Their state affairs: so thick the aery crowd Swarmed and were straitened; till, the signal given, Behold a wonder!
Page 242 - As high as we have mounted in delight In our dejection do we sink as low: To me that morning did it happen so; And fears and fancies thick upon me came; Dim sadness — and blind thoughts I knew not, nor could name.
Page 12 - Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd ; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word...
Page 144 - Or, turning to the Vatican, go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain — A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending : — Vain The struggle ; vain, against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clench ; the long envenomed chain Rivets the living links, — the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.
Page 113 - Yet tears to human suffering are due ; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes. Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died ; And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees...