The Poetical Works of Andrew Marvell: With Memoir of the Author

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A. Murray, 1870 - 208 páginas
 

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Página 83 - Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness; The mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas; Annihilating all that's made To a green thought in a green shade.
Página 94 - He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try; Nor called the Gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right ; But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Página 96 - ... mind, But, from this valour sad, Shrink underneath the plaid ; Happy, if in the tufted brake, The English hunter him mistake, Nor lay his hounds in near The Caledonian deer. But thou, the war's and fortune's son March indefatigably on, And for the last effect, Still keep the sword erect; Beside the force it has to fright The spirits of the shady night, The same arts that did gain A power, must it maintain. THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF THE GOVERNMENT UNDER HIS HIGHNESS • THE LORD PROTECTOR.
Página 49 - TO HIS COY MISTRESS. HAD we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Should'st rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain.
Página 47 - I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness, And all the springtime of the year It only loved to be there.
Página 41 - In the ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that rowed along The listening winds received this song. 'What should we do but sing his praise That led us through the watery maze, Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own? Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks, That lift the deep upon their backs, 10 He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage.
Página 45 - Even beasts must be with justice slain; Else men are made their deodands. Though they should wash their guilty hands In this warm life-blood which doth part From thine, and wound me to the heart, Yet could they not be clean; their stain Is dyed in such a purple grain. There is not such another in The world, to offer for their sin.
Página 81 - So the soul, that drop, that ray Of the clear fountain of eternal day, Could it within the human flower be seen, Remembering still its former height, Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green; And, recollecting its own light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater heaven in an heaven less.
Página 94 - Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain: But those do hold or break As men are strong or weak.
Página 81 - While all flowers and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men.

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