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And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

Line 39.

And add to these retired Leisure,

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

Line 49.

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,

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Such notes, as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

Line 105.

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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful Jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,

Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles.

Line 25.

Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go,

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Or sweetest Shakspere, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.

Line 131.

And ever, against eating cares

Lap me in soft Lydian airs,

Married to immortal verse,

Such as the meeting soul may pierce

In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out.

Line 135

The hidden soul of harmony.


Line 144.

As ever in my great task-master's eye.

Sonnet vii.

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Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot

Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer

Right onward.

Sonnet xxii.

Of which all Europe rings from side to side. Sonnet xxii.

But O, as to embrace me she inclined,

I waked; she fled; and day brought back my night.

Under a star-y pointing pyramid.

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame.

Sonnet xxiii.

Epitaph on Shakspere.



WILLIAM BASSE. 1613-1648.

RENOWNED Spenser, lie a thought more nigh

To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie

A little nearer Spenser, to make room

For Shakspere in your threefold, fourfold tomb.

On Shakspere.


HENRY VAUGHAN. 1614-1695.

SEE them walking in an air of glory
Whose light doth trample on my days;

My days which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.

They are all gone.

Dear beauteous death; the jewel of the just.


And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,

So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.


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Besides, 't is known he could speak Greck

As naturally as pigs squeak.
That Latin was no more difficile,

Than to a blackbird 't is to whistle.

Part i. Canto i. Line 51.

He could distinguish, and divide
A hair, 'twixt south and southwest side.

Parti. Canto i. Line 67.

For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth, but out there flew a trope.

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And prove their doctrine orthodox,

By Apostolic blows and knocks. Parti. Canto i. Line 199.

* Often the cockloft is empty, in those which nature hath built many stories high.-FULLER. Holy and Profane States. E. v. ch. xviii.

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