But that two-handed engine at the door

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

Lycidas. Line 130.

Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes

That on the green turf suck the honied showers,

And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.

Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,

The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

[[248]]The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet,

The glowing violet,