Comus: A Masque

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W.H. Baker, 1913 - 32 pages

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Page 17 - Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night ? I did not err, there does a sable cloud •Turn forth her silver lining on the night...
Page 16 - We that are of purer fire Imitate the starry quire, Who in their nightly watchful spheres, Lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; And on the tawny sands and shelves Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
Page 18 - Sweet echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are?
Page 31 - All amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree. Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring; The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours Thither all their bounties bring.
Page 18 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Page 20 - Peace, brother ; be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown, What need a man forestall his date of grief...
Page 27 - And underwent a quick immortal change, Made goddess of the river : still she retains Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make.
Page 24 - Lady? why do you frown ? Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brisk as the April buds in primrose season.
Page 17 - In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? My brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favour of these pines...
Page 17 - Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full, In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the gods amiss.

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