The English Poets, Volume 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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Página 30
... floods , And of my sorrow partners make the stars ; All desolate I haunt the fearful woods , When I should give myself to rest at night . With watchful eyes I ne'er behold the night , Mother 30 THE ENGLISH POETS . 339.
... floods , And of my sorrow partners make the stars ; All desolate I haunt the fearful woods , When I should give myself to rest at night . With watchful eyes I ne'er behold the night , Mother 30 THE ENGLISH POETS . 339.
Página 31
... rest in city , fields , or woods . End these my days , indwellers of the woods , Take this my life , ye deep and raging floods ; Sun , never rise to clear me with thy light , Horror and darkness , keep a lasting night ; Consume me ...
... rest in city , fields , or woods . End these my days , indwellers of the woods , Take this my life , ye deep and raging floods ; Sun , never rise to clear me with thy light , Horror and darkness , keep a lasting night ; Consume me ...
Página 34
... rests thee of life's wasting day ? Thy sun posts westward , passed is thy morn , And twice it is not given thee to be born . For the Baptist . The last and greatest herald of heaven's King , Girt with rough skins , hies to the deserts ...
... rests thee of life's wasting day ? Thy sun posts westward , passed is thy morn , And twice it is not given thee to be born . For the Baptist . The last and greatest herald of heaven's King , Girt with rough skins , hies to the deserts ...
Página 62
... rest . There is no great intrinsic charm in his verse : it is an admirable vehicle for the expression of intense restrained passion , word following word with severe clear - cutting emphasis ; but without a knowledge of the character ...
... rest . There is no great intrinsic charm in his verse : it is an admirable vehicle for the expression of intense restrained passion , word following word with severe clear - cutting emphasis ; but without a knowledge of the character ...
Página 63
... Rest for care ; Love only reigns in death ; though art Can find no comfort for a Broken Heart . AWAKENING SONG . [ From the Lover's Melancholy . ] JOHN FORD . 63 Penthea's Dying Song (from The Broken Heart) Calantha's Dirge (from the Same)
... Rest for care ; Love only reigns in death ; though art Can find no comfort for a Broken Heart . AWAKENING SONG . [ From the Lover's Melancholy . ] JOHN FORD . 63 Penthea's Dying Song (from The Broken Heart) Calantha's Dirge (from the Same)
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The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by ..., Volume 2 Matthew Arnold Visualização completa - 1882 |
The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by ..., Volume 2 Matthew Arnold Visualização completa - 1914 |
Termos e frases comuns
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley crown death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise reign rose sacred shade shalt shepherds shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 14 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
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 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 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?
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 454 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
Página 311 - And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
Página 357 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
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 20 - And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines, Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art, My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.