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,...
Milton's poetical works, with life, critical diss. and notes by G. Gilfillan - الصفحة 183
بواسطة John Milton - 1853
عرض كامل -