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admiration Alabaster appeared ation bard beauty Ben Jonson beneath bosom Chant character Charlecote charms chensey colours Combe Cornelius Jansen countenance cried daugh daughter dear deep delight Derbyshire English Garden enquiry exclaimed fancy father favourite feelings garden genius grace Hadleigh happy heart Helen Montchensey hour Hubert Gray imagination immediately interest Jardins Jonson justly kind lady landscape latter Lille Lord Southampton magic edge manner Master Montchensey Master Shakspeare mind Mont morning Muse nature New-Place night o'er passage picturesque pleasure poem poet poet's poetry Raymond Neville recollect remarked replied Robert Herrick scarcely scene scenery seemed seen shade Shak Simon Fraser Sir Thomas smile song soon spirit Stratford stream sweet talents taste thee Thomas Lucy thou thought tion tone translator trees venture whilst wild William Alabaster wish wood Wyeburne Hall young youth
315. oldal - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
10. oldal - 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 hallowed haunt.
8. oldal - Linquenda tellus et domus et placens Uxor, neque harum, quas colis, arborum Te praeter invisas cupressos Ulla brevem dominum sequetur.
10. oldal - Softly on my eyelids laid ; And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by some spirit to mortals good, Or the unseen Genius of the wood.
13. oldal - Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade; Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclined in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the crowd, How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great...
16. oldal - ... male necne Lepos saltet; sed quod magis ad nos pertinet et nescire malum est agitamus: utrumne divitiis homines an sint virtute beati; quidve ad amicitias, usus rectumne, trahat nos; 75 et quae sit natura boni summumque quid eius.
69. oldal - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
4. oldal - Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets, hail ! Ye lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep ! Delicious is your shelter to the soul, As to the hunted hart the sallying spring...
250. oldal - Many of his elegies appear to have been written in his eighteenth year, by which it appears that he had then read the Roman authors with very nice discernment. I once heard Mr Hampton, the translator of Polybius, remark, what I think is true, that Milton was the first Englishman who, after the revival of letters, wrote Latin verses with classic elegance.