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Page 206 - ... 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?
Page 221 - 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.
Page 216 - On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound : (So should desert in arms be crown'd.) The lovely Thais, by his side, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
Page 364 - Happy the man - and happy he alone He who can call today his own, He who, secure within, can say 'Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have...
Page 217 - 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 219 - 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 135 - WELL then, the promised hour is come at last, The present age of wit obscures the past...
Page 103 - Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, Was sent before but to prepare thy way; And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came To teach the nations in thy greater name.
Page 137 - That your least praise is to be regular. Time, place, and action may with pains be wrought, But genius must be born, and never can be taught. This is your portion, this your native store : Heaven, that but once was prodigal before. To Shakespeare gave as much; she could not give him more.
Page 205 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony This universal frame began ; When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead. Then cold and hot and moist and dry In order to their stations leap, And Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of...