...this point — for she lies " the Cynosure of neighbouring eyes." Now, see in his II 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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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...

...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 ax, with heav-ed stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...

...arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Syban loves Of Pine, or monumental Oake, i35 Where the rude Ax with heaved stroke, Was never heard...from their hallow'd haunt. There in close covert by som Brook, Where no profaner eye may look, 140 Hide me from Day's garish eie, While the Bee with Honied...

...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...

...Spenser and Shakespeare. The ' I ' figures in these poems are consciously immature and developing: And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves. Penseroso 131 But 1Sth-century poets took on the stance of il penseroso without any sense of its limitations...

...still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rusding leaves, With minute-drops from off the eaves. 130 And, when the sun begins to fling His...walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan77 loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the...