Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May! that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud, Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crownèd fortune proud Hast reared God’s trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with...
From “Paradise Lost,” Book VI. THE ARRAY NOW went forth the morn, Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold Empyreal; from before her vanished night, Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright, Chariots, and flaming arms...
From “Paradise Lost,” Book IV. TWO of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad In naked majesty, seemed lords of all: And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, (Severe, but in...
What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones, The labor of an age in pilèd stones? Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built...
Hence, vain deluding joys, The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you bestead, Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,— Or likest hovering...
