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Abelard Allen ancient appear arms beauteous beauty behold Belinda blest bold bosom breast breath bright charms colours cou'd courser critics dame e'er Eloisa envy Eurydice ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate flame flow'rs fools fung gen'rous glitt'ring glow Gnome grace groves hair hand head hear heart heav'n heav'nly honour learn'd learning light lise lock Lord Lansdown lov'd lover lyre maid melt miller muse Muse's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er once painted Pallas plain pleas'd poets pow'r praise pray'rs pride rage rais'd rise Rome round sacred sase Satyr scorn Semichorus shade shine sields sierce sighs sight sill silver sire sirst skies smiles soft song soul spleen spread strain streams swain swelling Sylphs tears Thalestris thee thou thought thro trembling Twas tyde tyrant Vertumnus virgin warm weep wind wise youth
Strana 104 - Was it for this you took such constant care The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare? For this your locks in paper durance bound, For this with...
Strana 79 - What though no credit doubting wits may give? The fair and innocent shall still believe. Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly, The light militia of the lower sky: These, though unseen, are ever on the wing, Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the Ring.
Strana 44 - Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to faults true critics dare not mend; From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains The heart, and all its end at once attains.
Strana 130 - Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if Eternal Justice rules the ball, Thus...
Strana 31 - Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers; Prepare the way! a God, a God appears: A God, a God! the vocal hills reply, The rocks proclaim th
Strana 164 - Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies...
Strana 101 - And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare, She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.
Strana 142 - To muse, and spill her solitary Tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon ; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire ; Up to her godly garret after sev'n, There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.