The Minor Poems of John Milton

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G. Bell, 1898 - 206 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 70 - Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge!" Last came, and last did go, The Pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: — "How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!
الصفحة 62 - Or the unseen genius of the wood. But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antic pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
الصفحة 64 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves, before the mellowing year.
الصفحة 54 - Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear...
الصفحة 39 - Then to come in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine : While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before : Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill...
الصفحة 57 - Or call up him that left half-told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife That own'd the virtuous ring and glass; And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride; And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung Of tourneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.
الصفحة 39 - Where the great Sun begins his state, Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale, Under the hawthorn in the dale.
الصفحة 53 - And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven Green, To behold the wandering Moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the Heaven's wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a Plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off Curfew sound, Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar...
الصفحة 35 - Euphrosyne, And by men heart-easing Mirth; Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore...
الصفحة 12 - Whispering new joys to the mild ocean Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence...

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