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angels arms awful bear beauties beneath bids bliſs blood break breath bright charms clouds command dead dear death deep delight divine dwell earth eternal ev'ry eyes face faint fair fall feel feet fight fire flame fleſh foul glory golden grace grow hand happy head heart heav'n heav'nly hills honours hopes immortal infinite Jeſus joys King land leave light live look Lord meet mind mortal mourn move Muſe muſt native Nature never night o'er pain paſſion pleaſure pow'rs praiſe reigns riſe roll round ſacred ſcenes ſeas ſee ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhining ſhould ſing ſkies ſky ſmiling ſome ſong ſoul ſound ſpread ſprings ſtand ſtars ſtill ſweet tears thee theſe thine things thoſe thou thoughts thouſand thro throne thunder tongue vain whoſe wind wings wound young
91. oldal - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo ! what sudden joys we see ! Jesus the dead revives again ! 4 The rising God forsakes the tomb ! Up to his Father's court he flies ; Cherubic legions guard him home, And shout him welcome to the skies.
97. oldal - Now let me mount and join their song, And be an angel too ; My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue — Here's joyful work for you.
xxi. oldal - The best of them sinks below the idea which I form of a divine or moral ode. He that deals in the mysteries of Heaven, or of the Muses, should be a genius of no vulgar mould...
84. oldal - And thine, my Mitio, (the fair saint replies.) Life, death, the world below, and worlds on high, And place, and time, are ours; and things to come, And past, and present, for our interest stands Firm in our mystic head, the title sure.
xvii. oldal - Poland, would need no excuse, did they but rise to the beauty of the original. I have often taken the freedom to add ten or twenty lines, or to leave out as many, that I might suit my song more to my own design, or because I saw it impossible to present the force, the fineness, and the fire of his expression in our language.
94. oldal - Thoughts like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings, And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance Rolling afore Him.
xix. oldal - I ever affect archaisms, exoticisms, and a quaint uncouthness of speech, in order to become perfectly Miltonian. It is my opinion that blank verse may be written with all due elevation of thought in a modern...
41. oldal - Chained to His throne a volume lies, With all the fates of men; With every angel's form and size, Drawn by th
vii. oldal - Boileau's objection, from other poets of his own country. What a noble use have Racine and Corneille made of Christian subjects, in some of their best tragedies ! What a variety of divine scenes are displayed, and pious passions awakened in those poems. The martyrdom of Polyeucte, how doth it reign over our love and pity, and at the same time animate our zeal and devotion...