George A. Aitken

Capitolo 69

to whine, "Or the Mr. Bickerstaff, I am suddenly suppressed the effect of a change! I have it broke that beautiful
Italian fan I showed her when you are here I complete, where it was this way
drawn admirably put to sleep our first parents in Heaven in each other
arm." But there is such affinity among painting and poetry that me
the images that were elevated from that portrait is improving, from
reading the same representation in two of our greatest poets. You look at her,
here are the passages in Milton and in Dryden. All thoughts of Milton are
marvelously solo and disposition, in this inimitable description that Adamo
ago of him in the eighth book of "Lost Heaven." But there is
none of them more excellent than that it contained in the following lines, where him
it tells us his/her thoughts when he was putting to sleep himself/herself/itself a small after his
creation.

    _While so I called, and it diverted me I don't know where,
    From from where me first it drew air, and first he/she saw
    This happy light;  when answered that nobody is returned,
    On a shady and green bank, profuse of flowers,
    Melancholy me the sate me down, there kind sleep
    Before find me, and with grabbed soft oppression
    My drowned sense, unperturbed although I thought
    I was passing then to my first state,
    Insensitive, and immediately to dissolve._[125]

But I cannot now forgive this hateful thing, this Dryden that, in his
"State of the innocence", you/he/she has given to my Eve of great-great-mother the same
the apprehension of the annihilation, on a very different occasion as Adamo
pronounce him/it of him, when he was grabbed with a pleasant kind of
the amazement and the state of death, Eve imagines falling away, and dissolving in
the hurry of an ecstasy. However, the verses are very good, and I don't do
knows but to be what she says. I will read them:

    _When Your kind eyes looked at languishing on mine,
    And garlanding arm made soft embraces they connect,
    A doubtful trembling grabbed me every o'er before,
    Then the wishes and an unknown heat before;