The English Poets: Selections with Critical IntroductionsThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1895 |
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Side 28
... sighs but breathe ) Joy on this living book to read my death . Then is she gone ? O fool and coward I ! O good occasion lost , ne'er to be found ! What fatal chains have my dull senses bound , When best they may , that they not fortune ...
... sighs but breathe ) Joy on this living book to read my death . Then is she gone ? O fool and coward I ! O good occasion lost , ne'er to be found ! What fatal chains have my dull senses bound , When best they may , that they not fortune ...
Side 29
... of her who made thee fortunate , A gulf thou art , whence clouds of sighs arise ; But unto none so noisome as to me , Who hourly see my murder'd joys in thee . Alexis , here she stay'd ; among these pines , DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . 29.
... of her who made thee fortunate , A gulf thou art , whence clouds of sighs arise ; But unto none so noisome as to me , Who hourly see my murder'd joys in thee . Alexis , here she stay'd ; among these pines , DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . 29.
Side 30
... sigh , here first my hopes were born , And I first got a pledge of promis'd grace : But , ah ! what serv'd it to be ... sighs , when Phoebus brings the light Why should I been a partner of the light , Who , crost in birth by bad aspects ...
... sigh , here first my hopes were born , And I first got a pledge of promis'd grace : But , ah ! what serv'd it to be ... sighs , when Phoebus brings the light Why should I been a partner of the light , Who , crost in birth by bad aspects ...
Side 53
... sigh , nor groan ; Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see ; Joys as winged dreams fly fast , Why should ...
... sigh , nor groan ; Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see ; Joys as winged dreams fly fast , Why should ...
Side 54
... sigh that piercing mortifies , A look that's fasten'd to the ground , A tongue chain'd up without a sound ! Fountain heads and pathless groves , Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks , when all the fowls Are warmly hous'd ...
... sigh that piercing mortifies , A look that's fasten'd to the ground , A tongue chain'd up without a sound ! Fountain heads and pathless groves , Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks , when all the fowls Are warmly hous'd ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Aglaura beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Catullus charm Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw death delight died dost doth drest earth EDMUND W eyes fair fancy fear fire flame Fletcher flowers GEORGE WITHER Giles Fletcher glory grace Habington hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides honour Inner Temple Jonson kiss leaves light lips live Lord Lovelace lover Lycidas maid Milton mind mistress Muse never night numbers o'er passion pastoral Perilla plays pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise Queen RICHARD LOVELACE rose shade Shepherd's shine sigh sing sleep songs sonnets soul spring stars Suckling Sweet Spirit tears thee thine things THOMAS CAREW thou shalt thought tomb unto Vaughan verse wanton wassail weep WILLIAM HABINGTON winds wings Wither write youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 352 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Side 312 - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,— Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm...
Side 323 - Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Side 218 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Side 386 - What wondrous life is this I lead ! Ripe apples drop about my head ; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach ; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Side 482 - Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain: Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Side 332 - What though the field be lost? All is not lost — the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield : And what is else not to be overcome.
Side 337 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Side 178 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move: This cannot take her. If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The devil take her!
Side 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...