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Page 352 - Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck , Till thou applaud the deed. — Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
Page 358 - To speak ; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers : attention held them mute. Thrice he assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth : at last Words interwove with sighs found out their way.
Page 357 - Archangel ; but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek ; but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion, to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather (Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned For ever now to have their lot in pain...
Page 9 - I do not know whether I am singular in my opinion: but for my own part, I would rather look upon a tree in all its luxuriancy and diffusion of boughs and branches, than when it is thus cut and trimmed into a mathematical figure...
Page 371 - Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.
Page 396 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 116 - The want of human interest is always felt. Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires and lays down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a pleasure.
Page 357 - For his revolt; yet faithful how they stood, Their glory withered: as when heaven's fire Hath scathed the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath.
Page 396 - Berkley's roofs that ring, 55 Shrieks of an agonizing king! She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs That tearst the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait ! 60 Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
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