The nocturnal minstrel; or, The spirit of the wood

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1810
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Page 141 - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Page 72 - At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even silence Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death...
Page 48 - A fool, a fool ; I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool ; a miserable varlet ! As I do live by food, I met a fool, Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool. Good...
Page 3 - That strain again ! — it had a dying fall : Oh, 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 3 - 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 1 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Page 82 - Have mercy, Heaven! — Ha! soft! 'twas but a •' dream ; But then so terrible, it shakes my soul ! Cold drops of sweat hang on my trembling flesh ; My blood grows chilly, and I freeze with horror!
Page 191 - To help this knot is yet to tye it faster. Since then the emperor has resolv'd you mine, For which I will for ever thank the gods, And make this holiday throughout...
Page 171 - Forgive me, heaven, this start, or elevate Imagination more, and make it nothing. Alas ! alas, Varanes ! But speak, Aranthes, The manner of his fate — Groans choke my words, But speak, and we will answer thee with tears.
Page 74 - ... And let him die to save thee. Thou art known ; Think and resolve — While I yet speak, renounce him; , While yet the thunder rolls suspended, stay it; Let thy voice charm me, and recall my soul, That turns averse, and dwells no more on Zara.

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