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And with the other dash'd the fawcy Waves,
Accoutred as we were, we both plung'd in
He stemm'd the stormy Tide, And gain'd by Stress of Arms the farther Side. Dryd. Vir
My Sight grows dim, and ev'ry Object dances And swims before me in the Maze of Death. Dryd. Au for Love.
Astonish'd at the Sighe, che vital Heat Forsakes her Limbs, her Veins no longer beat; She faints, she falls.
Dryd. Virg. Her Eyes are clos'd, and tho' with her 'tis Night, Her Beauty shines without the Help of Light. Nature begins to conquer in the Strife, And through her Lips fofc Whispers steal of Life : How fresh they fhew! the Roses almost gone For want of Air, by Breath seem newly blown. Her Eyes begin to move, and shine with Life, Now link again in Death's ungenele Strife: In doubtful Weather so the Sun resigns,
(Virg Sometimes his Light to Clouds, and sometimes shines. How. Vill
He therefore sent our all his Senfes,
And gently op'ning Lid, the Casement,
Look'd out, but yet with some Amazement. Hud
His puissant Sword unto his Side,
A Sword with glitt'ring Gems diversify'd, For Ornament, not Use, hung idly by his side.
Have you been led chro’the Cumaan Cave,
(Ground. Rofc. She makes ch'obedient Ghosts peep trembling thro' the
TEARS. See Funeral, Grief, Sorrow, Weeping.
A rising Scorm of Passion shook her Breast; Her Eyes a pireous Show'r of Tears let fall,
(Pa. And then she figh'd as if her Heare were breaking. Row, Fa:
Tears not squeez'd by Art, But shed from Nature like a kindly Show'r. Dryd. Don S.
She then lookid down and sigh'd, While from her unchang'd Face the silent Tears (for Loz Drop'd as they had not Leave, and stole their parting. Dryd. A.
Her Head reclin'd, as hiding Grief from view, Droops like a Rose surcharg‘d with morning Dew. Dryd. Aure.
He begg'd Relief With Tears, the dumb Petitioners of Grief With Tears fo tender as adorn'd his Love, And any Heart but only hers would move. Dryd, Tel.
Believe these Tears, which from my wounded Heart Bleed at my Eyes.
Dryá. Span, Fry Thy Heart is big, get thee apart and weep: Paffion I see is catching; for my Eyes Seeing those Beads of Sorrow stand in thine, Begin to water.
Shak. Jul. Ca. He chrice assay’d to speak, and thrice in spight of Scorn, Tears such as Angels weep burst forth : Ac last Words interwove with Sighs found out their way.
Milt. She a&ts the Jealous, and ar will the cries; For Womens Tears are but the Sweat of Eyes. Dryd. Fwu.
The waiting Tears stood ready for Command, And now they flow to varnish the false Tale.
Row. Amb. Step. I found her on the Floor In all the Storm of Grief, yet beautiful; Sighing fuch Breath of Sorrow, that her Lips Which late appear'd like Buds, were now o'erblown ; Pouring forth Tears at such a lavish Rate, That were the World on firt, they might have drown'd The Wrath of Heaven, and quench'd the mighty Ruin. Lee Mitk.
*Twould raise your Pity, but to see the Tears Force thro' her snowy Lids their melting Course, To lodge themselves on her red murm'ring Lips, That talk such inournful things; when strait a Gale Of starting Sighs carries those Pearls away, As Dews by Winds are wafred from che Flow'rs. Lee Mithr.
She mix'd her Speech with mournful Cries, And fruitless Tears came trickling from her Eyes. Dryd. Virg.
Mine is a Grief of Fury, nor Despair; And if a manly Drop or two fall down, . It fcalds along my Cheeks, like the green Wood, (Cleom. That sputt'ring in the Flames, works outward into Tears. Dr.
TENERIFF: From Atlas far, beyond a Waste of Plains, Proud Teneriff his giant Brother reigns. With breathing Fire his pitchy Nostrils glow, As from his Sides, he shakes the fleecy Snow. Around their hoary Prince, from watry Beds His subject Islands raise their verdant Heads: The Waves fo gently wash each rising Hill, The Land seems floating, and the Ocean ftill.
Things that love Night,
Shok, K. Lear.
(Don Seb. Words were not made to vent such Thoughts as mine. Dryd.
O my more than Father!
My grateful Thoughts so throng co get abroad,
And now such Haste to tell their Message make,
Otw. Ori With what becoming Thanks can I reply, Not only Words lie lab'ring in my Breaft, But Thought it self is by thy Praise oppress'd. Dryd. To
Oh let me unlade my Breaft! Pour out the Fulness of my Soul before you, Shew ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful Thought This wond'rous Goodness ftirs: But ’tis impossible, And Uit'rance all is vile; since I can only Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. Row. Fair Pa.
For should our Thanks a wake the rising Sun, And lengthen as bis' Jacest Shadows run,
(Dryd. That, tho' the longest Day, would foon, too soon be done.
Like a Thief,
Lee Oedip Thoughts fucceed Thoughts, like restless troubled Waves Dashing out one another.
Hom. D. of Lern.
I have been studying how to conpare,