The Works of the English Poets: Hughes

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Page 178 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour, but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!
Page 179 - And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : 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.
Page 180 - 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.
Page 175 - 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...
Page 178 - The many rend the skies with loud applause ; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gaz'd on the fair Who caus'd his care, And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again : At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd, The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
Page 180 - 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.
Page 176 - 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.
Page 176 - Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he flew the flain. The mafter faw the madnefs rife, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And while he heav'n and earth defy'd, Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
Page 99 - Ye blest remains of that illustrious age! Delightful Springs and Woods! — Might I with you my peaceful days live o'er, You, and my friend, whose absence I deplore, Calm as a gentle brook's unruffled tide Should the delicious flowing minutes glide; Discharg'd of care, on unfrequented plains, We'd sing of rural joys in rural strains. No false corrupt delights our thoughts should move, But joys of friendship, poetry, and love. While others...
Page 179 - Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise ! See the Snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their Hair, And the Sparkles that flash from their Eyes ! Behold a ghastly Band, Each a Torch in his Hand!

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