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L’Allegro |
“The cheerful one” (Italian)
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Hence° loathed Melancholy |
away from here
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Of Cerberus, and blackest midnight born, |
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In Stygian Cave forlorn° |
lost
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’Mongst° horrid shapes, and shreiks, and sights unholy, |
among
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5 |
Find out som uncouth° cell, |
unknown
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Wher brooding darknes spreads his jealous wings, |
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And the night-Raven sings; |
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There under Ebon° shades, and low-brow’d° Rocks, |
ebony — overhanging
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As ragged as thy Locks, |
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10 |
In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. |
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But com thou Goddes fair and free, |
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In Heav’n ycleap’d° Euphrosyne, |
called
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And by men, heart-easing Mirth, |
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Whom lovely Venus at a birth |
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15 |
With two sister Graces more |
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To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore; |
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Or whether (as som Sager° sing) |
some wiser people
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The frolick° Wind that breathes the Spring, |
joyous
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Zephir° with Aurora° playing, |
breeze — dawn
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As he met her once a Maying, |
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There on Beds of Violets blew,° |
blue
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And fresh-blown° Roses washt in dew, |
newly blossomed
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Fill’d her with thee a daughter fair, |
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So bucksom,° blith,° and debonair.° |
lively — happy — gracious
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25 |
Haste° thee nymph, and bring with thee |
hurry
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Jest and youthful Jollity,° |
cheerfulness
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Quips° and Cranks,° and wanton Wiles,° |
sayings — jokes — tricks
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Nods, and Becks,° and Wreathed° Smiles, |
beckonings — curled
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Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek, |
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30 |
And love to live in dimple sleek; |
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Sport that wrincled Care derides,° |
laughs at contemptuously
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And Laughter holding both his sides. |
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Com, and trip° it as ye go |
dance
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On the light fantastick toe, |
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35 |
And in thy right hand lead with thee, |
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The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; |
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And if I give thee honour due, |
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Mirth, admit me of thy crue |
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To live with her, and live with thee, |
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40 |
In unreproved° pleasures free; |
blameless
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To hear the Lark begin his flight, |
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And singing startle the dull night, |
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From his watch-towre in the skies, |
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Till the dappled° dawn doth rise; |
patchy
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Then to com in spight° of sorrow, |
defiance
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And at my window bid good morrow,° |
morning
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Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, |
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Or the twisted Eglantine.° |
sweetbriar
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While the Cock with lively din,° |
noise
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Scatters the rear° of darknes thin, |
last trace
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And to the stack,° or the Barn dore, |
haystack
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Stoutly struts his Dames° before, |
women
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Oft list’ning how the Hounds and horn, |
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Chearly rouse the slumbring morn, |
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From the side of som Hoar° Hill, |
white with old age
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Through the high wood echoing shrill. |
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Som time walking not unseen |
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By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green, |
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Right against the Eastern gate, |
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Wher the great Sun begins his state,° |
procession
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Rob’d in flames, and Amber light, |
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The clouds in thousand Liveries° dight.° |
uniforms — dressed
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While the Plowman neer at hand, |
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Whistles ore the Furrow’d° Land, |
plowed
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And the Milkmaid singeth blithe,° |
happily
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And the Mower whets° his sithe, |
sharpens
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And every Shepherd tells his tale |
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Under the Hawthorn in the dale. |
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Streit° mine eye hath caught new pleasures |
immediately
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70 |
Whilst the Lantskip° round it measures, |
landscape
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Russet° Lawns, and Fallows° Gray, |
reddish brown — cultivated ground
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Where the nibling flocks do stray, |
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Mountains on whose barren brest |
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The labouring clouds do often rest: |
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Meadows trim with Daisies pide,° |
spotted
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Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide. |
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Towers, and Battlements it sees |
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Boosom’d° high in tufted Trees, |
held
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Wher perhaps som beauty lies, |
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The Cynosure° of neighbouring eyes. |
object of attention
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Hard° by, a Cottage chimney smokes, |
near
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From betwixt° two aged Okes, |
between
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Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, |
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Are at their savory dinner set |
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Of Hearbs,° and other Country Messes,° |
succulent plants — meals
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Which the neat-handed° Phillis dresses; |
dexterous
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And then in haste her Bowre° she leaves, |
dwelling
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With Thestylis to bind the Sheaves;° |
tie up the stalks of grain
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Or if the earlier season lead |
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To the tann’d° Haycock° in the Mead,° |
dried by the sun — haystack — meadow
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Som times with secure° delight |
careless
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The up-land Hamlets will invite, |
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When the merry Bells ring round, |
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And the jocond° rebecks° sound |
cheerful — stringed instruments like fiddles
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To many a youth, and many a maid, |
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Dancing in the Chequer’d shade; |
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And young and old com forth to play |
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On a Sunshine Holyday, |
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Till the live-long day-light fail, |
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100 |
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale, |
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With stories told of many a feat, |
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How Faery Mab the junkets° eat, |
sweet dishes
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She was pincht, and pull’d she sed, |
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And he by Friars Lanthorn° led |
lantern
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Tells how the drudging Goblin swet |
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To ern his Cream-bowle duly set, |
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When in one night, ere glimps of morn, |
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His shadowy Flale° hath thresh’d the Corn° |
flail (for threshing) — grain
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That ten day-labourers could not end, |
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Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend. |
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And stretch’d out all the Chimney’s° length, |
fireplace’s
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Basks at the fire his hairy strength; |
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And Crop-full° out of dores he flings, |
satiated
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Ere° the first Cock his Mattin° rings. |
before — morning song
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Thus don° the Tales, to bed they creep, |
finished
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By whispering Windes soon lull’d asleep. |
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Towred Cities please us then, |
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And the busie humm of men, |
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Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold, |
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In weeds° of Peace high triumphs hold, |
clothes
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With store of Ladies, whose bright eies |
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Rain influence, and judge the prise |
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Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend |
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To win her Grace, whom all commend. |
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125 |
There let Hymen oft appear |
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In Saffron° robe, with Taper° clear, |
bright yellow — candle
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And pomp, and feast, and revelry, |
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With mask, and antique° Pageantry, |
both “old” and “wild’
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Such sights as youthfull Poets dream |
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On Summer eeves by haunted stream. |
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Then to the well-trod° stage anon, |
much walked-on
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If Jonsons learned Sock be on, |
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Or sweetest Shakespear fancies° childe, |
imagination’s
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Warble° his native Wood-notes° wilde, |
sing — birdsong
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And ever against eating Cares, |
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Lap me in soft Lydian Aires,° |
songs
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Married to immortal verse, |
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Such as the meeting soul may pierce |
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In notes, with many a winding bout° |
orbit
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140 |
Of lincked sweetnes long drawn out, |
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With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, |
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The melting voice through mazes running; |
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Untwisting all the chains that ty |
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The hidden soul of harmony. |
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That Orpheus self may heave his head |
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From golden slumber on a bed |
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Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear |
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Such streins° as would have won the ear |
melodies
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Of Pluto, to have quite° set free |
completely
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150 |
His half regain’d Eurydice. |
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These delights, if thou canst give, |
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Mirth with thee, I mean to live. |
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Il Penseroso |
“The thoughtful one” (Italian)
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Hence° vain deluding joyes, |
away from here
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The brood° of folly° without father bred, |
offspring — foolishness
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How little you bested,° |
help
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Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes;° |
unimportant things
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5 |
Dwell in som idle brain, |
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And fancies° fond° with gaudy shapes possess, |
imagined things — foolish
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As thick and numberless |
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As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams, |
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Or likest hovering dreams |
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The fickle Pensioners° of Morpheus train.° |
attendants — followers
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But hail thou Goddes, sage° and holy, |
wise
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Hail divinest Melancholy, |
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Whose Saintly visage° is too bright |
face
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To hit° the Sense of human sight; |
suit
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And therfore to our weaker view, |
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Ore laid° with black staid Wisdoms hue. |
darkened
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Black, but such as in esteem, |
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Prince Memnons sister might beseem,° |
look
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Or that Starr’d Ethiope° Queen that strove |
African
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To set her beauties praise above |
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The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended. |
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Yet thou art higher far descended, |
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Thee bright-hair’d Vesta long of yore, |
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To solitary Saturn bore;° |
born
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His daughter she (in Saturns raign, |
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Such mixture was not held a stain). |
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Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades |
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He met her, and in secret shades |
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Of woody Ida’s inmost grove, |
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While yet there was no fear of Jove.° |
Jupiter (Zeus)
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Com pensive Nun, devout and pure, |
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Sober, stedfast, and demure,° |
modest
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All in a robe of darkest grain,° |
hue
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Flowing with majestick train,° |
followers
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And sable° stole of Cipres Lawn,° |
black — fabric
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Over thy decent° shoulders drawn. |
modest
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Com, but keep thy wonted° state,° |
usual — dignity
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With eev’n step, and musing gate, |
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And looks commercing with the skies, |
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Thy rapt° soul sitting in thine eyes: |
ecstatic, carried away
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There held in holy passion still, |
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Forget thy self to Marble,° till |
turn into a marble statue
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With a sad° Leaden downward cast,° |
serious — look
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Thou fix them on the earth as fast.° |
tightly
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And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, |
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Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, |
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And hears the Muses in a ring, |
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Ay° round about Joves Altar sing. |
always
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And adde to these retired leasure, |
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That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure; |
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But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, |
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Him that yon° soars on golden wing, |
yonder, over there
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Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, |
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The Cherub° Contemplation, |
angel
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And the mute Silence hist° along, |
urge
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’Less° Philomel will daign° a Song, |
unless — see fit to
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In her sweetest, saddest plight,° |
mood
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Smoothing the rugged brow of night, |
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While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke, |
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Gently o’re th’ accustom’d° Oke; |
familiar
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Sweet Bird that shunn’st the noise of folly, |
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Most musicall, most melancholy! |
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Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among, |
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I woo to hear thy eeven-Song; |
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And missing thee, I walk unseen |
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On the dry smooth-shaven Green, |
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To behold the wandring Moon, |
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Riding neer her highest noon, |
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Like one that had bin led astray |
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Through the Heav’ns wide pathles way; |
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And oft, as if her head she bow’d, |
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Stooping through a fleecy cloud. |
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Oft on a Plat° of rising ground, |
field
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I hear the far-off Curfeu° sound, |
curfew bell
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Over som wide-water’d shoar, |
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Swinging slow with sullen° roar; |
mournful
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Or if the Ayr will not permit, |
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Som still removed place will fit, |
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Where glowing Embers through the room |
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Teach light to counterfeit° a gloom, |
imitate
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Far from all resort of mirth, |
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Save the Cricket on the hearth, |
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Or the Belmans drousie charm,° |
the night watchman’s invocations
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To bless the dores from nightly harm: |
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Or let my Lamp at midnight hour, |
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Be seen in som high lonely Towr, |
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Where I may oft out-watch° the Bear, |
remain watching longer
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With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear |
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The spirit of Plato to unfold |
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What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold |
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The immortal mind that hath forsook |
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Her mansion in this fleshly nook: |
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And of those Dæmons that are found |
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In fire, air, flood, or under ground, |
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Whose power hath a true consent° |
agreement
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With Planet, or with Element. |
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Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy |
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In Scepter’d° Pall° com sweeping by, |
royal — robe
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Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line, |
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Or the tale of Troy divine. |
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Or what (though rare) of later age, |
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Ennobled hath the Buskind stage. |
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But, O sad Virgin, that thy power |
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Might raise Musæus from his bower,° |
place of rest
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Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing |
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Such notes as warbled° to the string, |
sang
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Drew Iron tears down Pluto’s cheek, |
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And made Hell grant what Love did seek. |
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Or call up him° that left half told |
[Chaucer]
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The story of Cambuscan bold, |
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Of Camball, and of Algarsife, |
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And who had Canace to wife, |
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That own’d the vertuous° Ring and Glass, |
powerful
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And of the wondrous Hors of Brass, |
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On which the Tartar King did ride; |
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And if ought° els, great Bards beside, |
anything
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In sage° and solemn tunes have sung, |
wise
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Of Turneys° and of Trophies hung; |
tournaments
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Of Forests, and inchantments drear,° |
dreary
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Where more is meant then meets the ear. |
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Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,° |
journey
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Till civil-suited° Morn appeer, |
decent-looking
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Not trickt and frounc’t° as she was wont,° |
dressed up — accustomed to
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With the Attick Boy to hunt, |
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But Cherchef’t° in a comly Cloud, |
wrapped
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While rocking Winds are Piping loud, |
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Or usher’d with a shower still,° |
mild
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When the gust° hath blown his fill, |
wind
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Ending on the russling Leaves, |
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With minute drops from off the Eaves. |
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And when the Sun begins to fling |
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His flaring beams, me Goddes bring |
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To arched walks of twilight groves, |
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And shadows brown that Sylvan° loves |
god of woodlands
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Of Pine, or monumental Oake, |
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Where the rude° Ax with heaved stroke, |
primitive
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Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,° |
intimidate
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Or fright them from their hallow’d haunt.° |
dwelling place
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There in close covert° by som Brook, |
hidden recess
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Where no profaner° eye may look, |
unholy
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Hide me from Day’s garish eie, |
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While the Bee with Honied thie,° |
thight
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That at her flowry work doth sing, |
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And the Waters murmuring |
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With such consort° as they keep, |
harmony
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Entice the dewy-feather’d Sleep; |
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And let som strange mysterious dream, |
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Wave at his Wings in Airy stream, |
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Of lively portrature display’d, |
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Softly on my eye-lids laid. |
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And as I wake, sweet musick breath |
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Above, about, or underneath, |
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Sent by som spirit to mortals good, |
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Or th’ unseen Genius° of the Wood. |
guardian spirit
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But let my due feet never fail, |
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To walk the studious Cloysters pale, |
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And love the high embowed Roof, |
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With antick° Pillars massy proof, |
both “old” and “outlandish”
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And storied° Windows richly dight,° |
showing scenes of stories — decked out
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Casting a dimm religious light. |
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There let the pealing° Organ blow, |
ringing
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To the full voic’d Quire° below, |
choir
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In Service high, and Anthems cleer, |
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As may with sweetnes, through mine ear, |
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Dissolve me into extasies, |
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And bring all Heav’n before mine eyes. |
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And may at last my weary age |
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Find out the peacefull hermitage, |
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The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell, |
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Where I may sit and rightly spell,° |
study
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Of every Star that Heav’n doth shew,° |
show
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And every Herb° that sips the dew; |
plant
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Till old experience do attain |
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To somthing like Prophetic strain.° |
tone
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These pleasures Melancholy give, |
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And I with thee will choose to live. |
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