English Poets of the Eighteenth CenturyErnest Bernbaum C. Scribner's Sons, 1918 - 364 sider |
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Side 7
... head . The offspring of this miscellaneous crowd , Had not their new plantations long enjoyed , But they grew Englishmen , and raised their votes At foreign shoals for interloping Scots . 1 The royal branch from Pictland did succeed ...
... head . The offspring of this miscellaneous crowd , Had not their new plantations long enjoyed , But they grew Englishmen , and raised their votes At foreign shoals for interloping Scots . 1 The royal branch from Pictland did succeed ...
Side 21
... head . Sleep , my babe ; thy food and raiment , House and home , thy friends provide ; All without thy care or payment : All thy wants are well supplied . How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be , When from Heaven ...
... head . Sleep , my babe ; thy food and raiment , House and home , thy friends provide ; All without thy care or payment : All thy wants are well supplied . How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be , When from Heaven ...
Side 30
... heads , as stomachs , are not sure the best , Which nauseate all , and nothing can digest . Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move ; For fools admire , but men of sense approve : As things seem large which we through mists descry ...
... heads , as stomachs , are not sure the best , Which nauseate all , and nothing can digest . Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move ; For fools admire , but men of sense approve : As things seem large which we through mists descry ...
Side 31
... head , With his own tongue still edifies his ears , And always listening to himself appears . All books he reads , and all he reads assails , From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales . With him , most authors steal their works , or ...
... head , With his own tongue still edifies his ears , And always listening to himself appears . All books he reads , and all he reads assails , From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales . With him , most authors steal their works , or ...
Side 34
Ernest Bernbaum. Amid the circle , on the gilded mast , Superior by the head , was Ariel placed ; His purple pinions opening to the sun , He raised his azure wand , and thus begun : ' Ye sylphs and sylphids , to your chief give ear ...
Ernest Bernbaum. Amid the circle , on the gilded mast , Superior by the head , was Ariel placed ; His purple pinions opening to the sun , He raised his azure wand , and thus begun : ' Ye sylphs and sylphids , to your chief give ear ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
AUGUSTUS MONTAGU TOPLADY auld auld lang syne bard beauty beneath blessed blest bliss breast breath charms clouds crown dear delight divine dread e'er earth eternal fair fame fancy fate fear Fingal flowers folly fools frae gale grace grave Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven hill human JOHN GILBERT COOPER king labour live Lubberkin lyre Matthew Prior mind moral murmurs Muse nature Nature's ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er Ossian pain passions peace plain pleasing pleasure poet poor praise pride proud rage raptures RICHARD JAGO rills rise round scene shade shine sigh sing skelpin smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spread spring swain sweet tears thee thine thou thought toil trembling truth Twas vale virtue voice wandering wave wild wind wings wretch wyllowe youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 183 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Side 218 - As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Side 185 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Side 236 - Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to thy cross I cling ; Naked, come to Thee for dress ; Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; Foul, I to the Fountain fly, Wash me, Saviour, or I die...
Side 143 - Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee. Leave, ah leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed, All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Side 184 - Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Side 160 - How sleep the Brave T_TOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell, a weeping hermit, there...
Side 269 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense. Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Side 215 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Side 61 - Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying...