The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, Volume 31

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Page 176 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure ; Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain ; Fought all his battles o'er again ; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain.
Page 253 - As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Page 175 - With flying fingers touched the lyre : The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, (Such is the power of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form belied the god : Sublime on radiant spires he rode, When he to fair Olympia...
Page 179 - And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew. Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes, And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Page 125 - Apollo thither led his train, And Music warbled in her sweetest strain. Cyllenius so, as fables tell, and Jove Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove...
Page 175 - The fong began from Jove, Who left his blifsful feats above, (Such is the power of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god: Sublime on radiant fpires he rode, When he to fair Olympia prefs'd : And while he fought her fnowy breaft : Then, round her flender waift he curl'd, And ftamp'd an image of himfelf, a fovereign of the world.
Page 255 - By this description, if you meet her, With lowly bows and homage greet her ; And if you bring the vagrant beauty Back to her mother and her duty...
Page 242 - Through Indian realms to carry dire alarms, And make the hardy Scythian dread your arms. But fay this wondrous race of glory run, When we return, fay what...
Page 178 - The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gaz'd on the fair, Who caus'd his care ; And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again. At length, with love and wine at once oppreft, The vanquifh'd viftor funk upon her breaft.
Page 99 - I deplore, Calm as a gentle brook's unruffled tide Should the delicious flowing minutes glide; Discharg'd of care, on unfrequented plains, We'd sing of rural joys in rural strains. No false corrupt delights our thoughts should move, But joys of friendship, poetry, and love.

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