The English Poets: Selections with Critical IntroductionsThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1895 |
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Página 12
... play . Let their fastidious , vain Commission of the brain Run on and rage , sweat , censure , and condemn ; They were not made for thee , less thou for them . Say that thou pour'st them wheat , And they will acorns eat ; Twere simple ...
... play . Let their fastidious , vain Commission of the brain Run on and rage , sweat , censure , and condemn ; They were not made for thee , less thou for them . Say that thou pour'st them wheat , And they will acorns eat ; Twere simple ...
Página 13
... Play - club : There , sweepings do as well As the best - ordered meal ; For who the relish of these guests will fit , Needs set them but the alms - basket of wit . And much good do't you then : Brave plush - and - velvet - men Can feed ...
... Play - club : There , sweepings do as well As the best - ordered meal ; For who the relish of these guests will fit , Needs set them but the alms - basket of wit . And much good do't you then : Brave plush - and - velvet - men Can feed ...
Página 32
... play , Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death . The winds all silent are , And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every star : Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels ...
... play , Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death . The winds all silent are , And Phoebus in his chair , Ensaffroning sea and air , Makes vanish every star : Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels ...
Página 43
... Play - house ' ( the Globe ) , and wrote for the theatre The most celebrated of their joint productions were produced probably between 1608 and 1611. But the common life which has been described by Aubrey , and is itself almost a poem ...
... Play - house ' ( the Globe ) , and wrote for the theatre The most celebrated of their joint productions were produced probably between 1608 and 1611. But the common life which has been described by Aubrey , and is itself almost a poem ...
Página 45
... play . ' Sad songs , ' like that quoted from The Queen of Corinth ; dirges , like the ' Come you , whose loves are dead ' of The Knight of the Burning Pestle , or the ' Lay a garland on my hearse ' ; invoca- tions , prayers to Cupid ...
... play . ' Sad songs , ' like that quoted from The Queen of Corinth ; dirges , like the ' Come you , whose loves are dead ' of The Knight of the Burning Pestle , or the ' Lay a garland on my hearse ' ; invoca- tions , prayers to Cupid ...
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Termos e frases comuns
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
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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?
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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!
Página 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...