Cowley. Denham. Milton. Butler. Rochester. Roscommon. Otway. Waller. Pomfret. Dorset. Stepney. J. Philips. Walsh |
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againſt Angels appear arms bear beſt better blood body bring brought cauſe death divine doubt earth eyes face fair faith fall fame fate fear fight fire firſt force friends give glory Gods grace grow hand happy hath head hear heart Heaven Hell himſelf honour hope juſt keep kind king land laſt late learned leave leſs light live look Lord mean mighty mind moſt muſt nature never night o'er once pain peace prove Quoth rich round ſaid ſay ſee ſet ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſoul ſtate ſtill ſuch tell thee themſelves theſe things thoſe thou thought till tree true truth turn uſe virtue whole whoſe wind wonder wound
Populære passager
Side 120 - THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring...
Side 24 - Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind...
Side 128 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend.
Side 129 - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom...
Side 132 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies That sing, and singing in their glory move And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Side 29 - By none ; and if not equal all, yet free, Equally free ; for orders and degrees Jar not with liberty, but well consist.
Side 130 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.