The Laureates of England, from Ben Jonson to Alfred TennysonKenyon West Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1895 - 459 էջ |
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beauty Ben Jonson beneath blessed breath bright calm charm Cibber clouds Colley Cibber crown dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth Dryden Dunciad earth English poetry Eusden eyes fair Falconbridge fear feel flowers gleam glory grace happy hath hear heard heart heaven Henry James Pye hills honour hope hour human Inchcape Rock Jane Shore Jonson Kilve King laureate Laureateship laurel light live Locksley Hall look Lord Chamberlain mighty mind moon morning mountain muse NAHUM TATE nature Nature's never NICHOLAS ROWE night o'er odes passion peace pleasure poem poet poet laureate poetry praise rock round Shadwell Shadwell's shine shore sight silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound Southey spirit spring stars stream sweet tears thee thine things THOMAS SHADWELL thou art thought thro truth voice wind Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Էջ 210 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see E'en in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. " The stars of midnight shall be dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Էջ 16 - A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Էջ 209 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Էջ 15 - Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space to breathe, how short soever, Thou that mak'st...
Էջ 301 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Էջ 221 - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Էջ 245 - Two Voices are there ; one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty ! There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee Thou fough'tst against Him ; but hast vainly striven , Thou from thy Alpine Holds at length art driven, Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee. Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft : Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left ; For...
Էջ 228 - High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may. Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing...
Էջ 14 - Soul of the age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
Էջ 17 - STILL to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed; Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.