The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions, Volume 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1905 |
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Página 10
... hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of beaver ? Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o ' the bud o ' the briar ? Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white , -O so soft , —O so sweet is she ! TRUTH ...
... hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of beaver ? Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o ' the bud o ' the briar ? Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white , -O so soft , —O so sweet is she ! TRUTH ...
Página 18
... HATH LEFT US . [ Printed by Gifford in Underwoods , but really from the First Folio edition of Shakspeare , 1623. ] To draw no envy , Shakspeare , on thy name , Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be ...
... HATH LEFT US . [ Printed by Gifford in Underwoods , but really from the First Folio edition of Shakspeare , 1623. ] To draw no envy , Shakspeare , on thy name , Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; While I confess thy writings to be ...
Página 20
... stage , Which , since thy flight from hence , hath mourned like night , And despairs day but for thy volume's light . 1 That he that man . = EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE1 . [ From Underwoods 20 THE ENGLISH POETS .
... stage , Which , since thy flight from hence , hath mourned like night , And despairs day but for thy volume's light . 1 That he that man . = EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE1 . [ From Underwoods 20 THE ENGLISH POETS .
Página 27
... hath amused the world some thousand years . Poesy is not a thing that is yet in the finding and search , or which may be other- wise found out . ' Such is the mature view of Drummond ; the view of a man who has read the best that the ...
... hath amused the world some thousand years . Poesy is not a thing that is yet in the finding and search , or which may be other- wise found out . ' Such is the mature view of Drummond ; the view of a man who has read the best that the ...
Página 30
... hath torments all the night , And heart spends sighs , when Phoebus brings the light . Why should I been a partner of the light , Who , crost in birth by bad aspects of stars , Have never since had happy day nor night ? Why was not I a ...
... hath torments all the night , And heart spends sighs , when Phoebus brings the light . Why should I been a partner of the light , Who , crost in birth by bad aspects of stars , Have never since had happy day nor night ? Why was not I a ...
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The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions, Volume 2 Thomas Humphry Ward Visualização completa - 1902 |
Termos e frases comuns
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
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 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.
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 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.
Página 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.
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...
Página 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.
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 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.
Página 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...
Página 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.