Elegies: Ancient and Modern. With an Introductory Study of the History of Elegiac Poetry from the Earliest Days Down to the Present Time, Volume 1Brandt, 1903 - 308 páginas |
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Página 63
... wont to rest itself , as loath to post From out so fair an inn ; look , look , they seem To stir , And breathe defiance to black obloquy . " In the dramas of Thomas Lovell Beddoes , who from internal evidence alone would be adjudged as ...
... wont to rest itself , as loath to post From out so fair an inn ; look , look , they seem To stir , And breathe defiance to black obloquy . " In the dramas of Thomas Lovell Beddoes , who from internal evidence alone would be adjudged as ...
Página 130
... wont to sing . And tell again to the Eagrian maidens , tell to all the Nymphs Bistonian , how that he hath perished , the Dorian Orpheus . Begin , ye Sicilian Muses , begin the dirge . No more to his herds he sings , that beloved herds ...
... wont to sing . And tell again to the Eagrian maidens , tell to all the Nymphs Bistonian , how that he hath perished , the Dorian Orpheus . Begin , ye Sicilian Muses , begin the dirge . No more to his herds he sings , that beloved herds ...
Página 131
... wont to delight , that he would teach to speak , they sat over against each other on the boughs and kept moan- ing , and the birds sang in answer , " Wail , ye wretched ones , even ye ! " Begin , ye Sicilian Muses , begin the dirge ...
... wont to delight , that he would teach to speak , they sat over against each other on the boughs and kept moan- ing , and the birds sang in answer , " Wail , ye wretched ones , even ye ! " Begin , ye Sicilian Muses , begin the dirge ...
Página 135
... wont to play , and she knew the Dorian strain . Not unrewarded will the singing be ; and as once to Orpheus's sweet minstrelsy she gave Eurydice to return with him , even so will she send thee too , Bion , to the hills . But if I , even ...
... wont to play , and she knew the Dorian strain . Not unrewarded will the singing be ; and as once to Orpheus's sweet minstrelsy she gave Eurydice to return with him , even so will she send thee too , Bion , to the hills . But if I , even ...
Página 166
... wont to be extold , Regestringe trewly every formare date ; Of thy bountie after the usual rate , Kyndell in me suche plenty of thy noblès This sorrowful dites that I may shew expres . O cruell Mars , thou dedly god of war ! O dolorous ...
... wont to be extold , Regestringe trewly every formare date ; Of thy bountie after the usual rate , Kyndell in me suche plenty of thy noblès This sorrowful dites that I may shew expres . O cruell Mars , thou dedly god of war ! O dolorous ...
Outras edições - Ver todos
Elegies: Ancient and Modern, Vol. 1: With an Introductory Study of the ... Mary Lloyd Prévia não disponível - 2018 |
Elegies: Ancient and Modern, Vol. 1: With an Introductory Study of the ... Mary Lloyd Prévia não disponível - 2017 |
Termos e frases comuns
Adonis Astrophel beauty begin the dirge begin the woodland Ben Jonson bewail Bion carefull verse Daphnis dead dear death delight didst died dolefull doth earth EDMUND SPENSER elegiac elegy English Epitaph eyes faded fair fairest fame farewell fate feeling flower gone grace grave Greek grief gyrlonds happy Harmodius and Aristogeiton hath heart heaven heavie herse Henry herse immortal John Donne JOHN DRYDEN JOHN MILTON Jonson lady lament light lines live Lord Lycidas Lycon lyric Matthew Arnold memory Milton mind mortal mourn never night noble Nymphs o'er Petrarch Philip Bourke Marston poem poet poetic poetry praise Prince rest rose Shakspere shepheards sighs sing sonnet sorrow soul Spenser sweet maids tears tender thee thine THOMAS CAREW thou art thou hast thought Tibullus unto virtue wail weep wife wont woodland song wrote ye Sicilian Muses youth
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 253 - 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 213 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Página 20 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations. All they shall speak and say unto thee, Art thou also become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?
Página 214 - THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold !'( When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
Página 265 - Purification in the old Law did save, And such as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Página 227 - Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time!
Página 16 - Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided ; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.
Página 228 - Yet must I not give nature all; thy art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Página 256 - Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears: "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
Página 256 - Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream ! Had ye been there...