The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions, Հատոր 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1905 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 43–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 17
... tell , Than that it lived at all . Farewell ! AN ODE TO HIMSELF . [ From Underwoods . ] Where dost thou careless lie Buried in ease and sloth ? Knowledge that sleeps , doth die ; And this security , It is the common moth That eats on ...
... tell , Than that it lived at all . Farewell ! AN ODE TO HIMSELF . [ From Underwoods . ] Where dost thou careless lie Buried in ease and sloth ? Knowledge that sleeps , doth die ; And this security , It is the common moth That eats on ...
Էջ 19
... tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine , Or sporting Kyd , or Marlowe's mighty line . And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek , From thence to honour thee , I would not seek For names , but call forth thund'ring Eschylus ...
... tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine , Or sporting Kyd , or Marlowe's mighty line . And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek , From thence to honour thee , I would not seek For names , but call forth thund'ring Eschylus ...
Էջ 36
... Tell Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal spoils , And that on earth I am but a sad name ; If thou e'er held me dear , by all our love , By all that bliss , those joys Heaven here us gave , I conjure thee , and by the maids of Jove , To ...
... Tell Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal spoils , And that on earth I am but a sad name ; If thou e'er held me dear , by all our love , By all that bliss , those joys Heaven here us gave , I conjure thee , and by the maids of Jove , To ...
Էջ 50
... tell me , sweetest , What new service now is meetest For the Satyr ? Shall I stray In the middle air , and stay The sailing rack , or nimbly take Hold by the moon , and gently make Suit to the pale queen of night For a beam to give thee ...
... tell me , sweetest , What new service now is meetest For the Satyr ? Shall I stray In the middle air , and stay The sailing rack , or nimbly take Hold by the moon , and gently make Suit to the pale queen of night For a beam to give thee ...
Էջ 77
... tell , How Willy bade his friend and joy farewell . Cease , cease , ye murmuring winds , To move a wave ; But if with troubled minds You seek his grave , Know ' tis as various as yourselves Now in the deep , then on the shelves , His ...
... tell , How Willy bade his friend and joy farewell . Cease , cease , ye murmuring winds , To move a wave ; But if with troubled minds You seek his grave , Know ' tis as various as yourselves Now in the deep , then on the shelves , His ...
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Այլ խմբագրություններ - View all
The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions, Հատոր 2 Thomas Humphry Ward Ամբողջությամբ դիտվող - 1902 |
Common terms and phrases
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Catullus Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw crown death delight died dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers genius Giles Fletcher glory grace Habington hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Jonson King kiss Lady light live Lord Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise rhyme rose sacred satire shade shepherds shine sigh sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thought unto verse Waller wanton weep WILLIAM HABINGTON winds wings Wither write youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 218 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.
Էջ 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.
Էջ 204 - I should (said He) Bestow this jewel also on My creature, He would adore My gifts instead of Me, And rest in nature, not the God of nature : So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness : Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to My breast.
Էջ 455 - A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Էջ 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...
Էջ 185 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Էջ 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!
Էջ 319 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
Էջ 326 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Էջ 328 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.