The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Esq: Containing Original Poems, Tales, and Translations, with Notes, Volum 2

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F. C. and J. Rivington, 1811
 

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Side 324 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
Side 338 - Flushed with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! Bacchus , ever fair and young , Drinking joys did first ordain : Bacchus...
Side 337 - With flying fingers touched the lyre : The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, (Such is the power of mighty love.) A dragon's fiery form belied the god : Sublime on radiant spires he rode, When he to fair Olympia...
Side 571 - As for the Dog, the Furies, and their snakes, The gloomy caverns, and the burning lakes, And all the vain infernal trumpery, They neither are, nor were, nor e'er can be.
Side 174 - Near these a Nursery erects its head. Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred ; Where unfledg'd actors learn to laugh and cry, Where infant punks their tender voices try, And little Maximins the gods defy.
Side 181 - In thy felonious heart though venom lies, It does but touch thy Irish pen and dies. Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame...
Side 344 - Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Side 344 - Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And like another Helen, fired another Troy! Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute; Timotheus to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
Side 344 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies ; She drew an angel down.
Side 339 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure ; Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain ; Fought all his battles o'er again ; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain.

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