...the enthusiasm which Milton owned, when he addressed the pensive inspirer of his earliest Strains: When the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me,...brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And, when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown, that Sylvan loves. Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, Where the rude ax with heaved stroke Was never heard,...hallow'd haunt. There in close covert by some brook, Wbere no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honey'd thigh. That...

...brook ; in memory, Or monument to ages : and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums. Milton's Paradise Lost. When the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me,...groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, Of pine or mwumental oak. Milton. In a heap of slain, Two youthful knights they found beneath a load opprest Of...

...the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. iso And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, iss Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from...

...twilight groves, And shadows brown, tint Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to...covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee, with honey'd thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing,...

...to this point— for she lies "theCynosure of neighbouring eyes." Now, see in his 11 Penseroso — " And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke. Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...still When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. 130 And when the sun begins to fling His...loves Of pine, or monumental oak, 135 Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt....

...twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, I Of pine or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to...covert by some brook, Where no profaner eye may look. Hide me from day's garish eye, White the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing,...