The Works of the English Poets, Volume 11 |
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Page 5
All pale he lies , and looks a lovely flower , New cropt by virgin hands , to drefs the bower : 100 Unfaded yet , but yet unfed below , No more to mother earth or the green stem shall owe . Then two fair vefts , of wondrous work and ...
All pale he lies , and looks a lovely flower , New cropt by virgin hands , to drefs the bower : 100 Unfaded yet , but yet unfed below , No more to mother earth or the green stem shall owe . Then two fair vefts , of wondrous work and ...
Page 6
... branches in their hand . Obteft his clemency , and from the plain Beg leave to draw the bodies of their flain . They plead , that none thofe common rites deny . To conquer'd foes , that in fair battle die .
... branches in their hand . Obteft his clemency , and from the plain Beg leave to draw the bodies of their flain . They plead , that none thofe common rites deny . To conquer'd foes , that in fair battle die .
Page 8
Rushing from out the gate , the people stand , Each with a funeral flambeau in his hand : Wildly they ftare , distracted with amaze : The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze , That caft a fullen fplendor on their friends .
Rushing from out the gate , the people stand , Each with a funeral flambeau in his hand : Wildly they ftare , distracted with amaze : The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze , That caft a fullen fplendor on their friends .
Page 10
... live lingering on , ' Tis to behold his vengeance for my fon . Iftay for Turnus ; whofe devoted head Is owing to the living and the dead : 250 255 } 260 271 275 My My fon and I expect it from his hand ; TO DRYDEN'S VIRGIL .
... live lingering on , ' Tis to behold his vengeance for my fon . Iftay for Turnus ; whofe devoted head Is owing to the living and the dead : 250 255 } 260 271 275 My My fon and I expect it from his hand ; TO DRYDEN'S VIRGIL .
Page 11
My fon and I expect it from his hand ; ' Tis all that he can give , or we demand . Joy is no more : but I would gladly go , To greet my Pallas with fuch news below . The morn had now difpell'd the shades of night ; Reftoring toils ...
My fon and I expect it from his hand ; ' Tis all that he can give , or we demand . Joy is no more : but I would gladly go , To greet my Pallas with fuch news below . The morn had now difpell'd the shades of night ; Reftoring toils ...
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