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" And, when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or... "
The Works of the British Poets: With Lives of the Authors - الصفحة 265
بواسطة Ezekiel Sanford - 1819
عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب

Studies in Poetry: Embracing Notices of the Lives and Writings of the Best ...

George Barrell Cheever - 1830 - عدد الصفحات: 480
...piping loud, Or ushered with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And,...heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. There in close covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's...

The Poetical Works of John Milton, المجلد 3

John Milton - 1832
...gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. iso And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, iss Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from...

The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - عدد الصفحات: 882
...piping loud, Or ushered with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And...to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To archeil walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak,...

Blackwood's Magazine, المجلد 34

1833
...to this point— for she lies "theCynosure of neighbouring eyen." Now, see in hig II Penseroso — " And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, tint Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard...

The Poetical Works of John Milton

John Milton - 1834 - عدد الصفحات: 392
...gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from oif the eaves. 130 And , when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, 135 Where the rude ax, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from...

A Descriptive, Explanatory, and Critical, Catalogue of Fifty of the Earliest ...

John Landseer - 1834 - عدد الصفحات: 424
...occasionally transported him " To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard,...daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt." Such are Poussin's Arcadian forest scenes of the primitive ages. We almost incontinently quote Milton,...

Leigh Hunt's London Journal, المجلدات 1-2

Leigh Hunt - 1834
...pleasure is ever young, though the path is old. So — — When the sun begins to fling His Oaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, I Of pine or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt,...

Chromatography, Or, A Treatise on Colours and Pigments, and of Their Powers ...

George Field - 1835 - عدد الصفحات: 276
...— Something browner than Judas's. And in the following it is accorded with shade, black, &c. : — To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak. MILTON'S LYCIDAS. Not that our heads are, Some brown, some black, some auburn, and some bald, But that...

The Poetical Works of Milton, Young, Gray, Beattie, and Collins

1836
...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the caves. And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. There in close covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's...

The Book of Gems: Chaucer to Prior

Samuel Carter Hall - 1836
...usher'd with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, Writh minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun...begins to fling His flaring beams, me Goddess bring To arehed walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oake, Where...




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