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...piping loud, Or usher'd with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. 1 30...brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, 155 Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from...

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

...somewhat expressive of the sense. Milton's description of rural solitude is a. master-piece of this kind. And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams,...brown that sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, \V'here the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from...

...formerly tolled, with intervals of a minute, from the death to the burial of distinguished persons. " 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...walks of twilight groves , And shadows brown that Sy Ivan loves Of pine or monumental oak , Where the rude ax with heaved stroke daunt, W'as never heard...

...When'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, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt, There, in close covert,...

...rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the sun begins to fling His flarirg beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight...brown that Sylvan loves Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude ax, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their...