The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 18, Page 2

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H. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry
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Page 149 - Tagus. forc'd the way. And in the brainpan warmly buried lay. Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round, Descried not him who gave the fatal wound, Nor knew to fix revenge: 'But thou,' he cries, 'Shalt pay for both,' and at the pris'ner flies With his drawn sword.
Page 150 - Nysa's top descending on the plains, With curling vines around his purple reins. And doubt we yet through dangers to pursue The paths of honour, and a crown in view?
Page 108 - Thus having arm'd with hopes her anxious mind, His finny team Saturnian Neptune join'd, Then adds the foamy bridle to their jaws, And to the loosen'd reins permits the laws.
Page 114 - On their eternal anvils here he found The brethren beating, and the blows go round; A load of pointless thunder now there lies Before their hands, to ripen for the skies: These darts, for angry Jove, they daily cast — Consumed on mortals with prodigious waste.
Page 124 - O'er whose unhappy waters, void of light, No bird presumes to steer his airy flight ; Such deadly stenches from the depth arise, And steaming sulphur, that infects the skies.
Page 158 - The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, Which thick with shades, and a brown horror, stood : Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, With whirlpools dimpled ; and, with downward force, That drove the sand along, he took his way, And roll'd his yellow billows to the sea. About him, and above, and round the wood, The birds that haunt the borders of his flood, That bath'd within, or bask'd upon his side, To tuneful songs their narrow throats apply'd. The captain gives command : the joyful train...
Page 62 - Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close Their eyes in balmy sleep, and soft repose: The winds no longer whisper through the woods, Nor murm'ring tides disturb the gentle floods.
Page 157 - In glitt'ring armor and a purple vest, (Fair was his face, his eyes inspiring love,) Bred by his father in the Martian grove, Where the fat altars of Palicus flame, And sent in arms to purchase early fame.
Page 117 - O ye gods, replace On his own head, and on his impious race! The living and the dead at his command Were coupled, face to face, and hand to hand, Till, chok'd with stench, in loath'd embraces tied, The ling'ring wretches pin'd away and died.
Page 299 - And give him to his aged father's sight. Now let him perish, since you hold it good, And glut the Trojans with his pious blood. Yet from our lineage he derives his name, And, in the fourth degree, from god Pilumnus came; Yet he devoutly pays you rites divine, And offers daily incense at your shrine.

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