Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, with a Biography of Each Poet, &c, Том 3H. Washbourne, 1845 |
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Стр. 8
... nights , My jealous fits ; O mine hard fate I now repent , but ' tis too late . No torment is so bad as love , So bitter to my soul can prove . All my griefs to this are jolly , Nought so harsh as melancholy . Friends and companions ...
... nights , My jealous fits ; O mine hard fate I now repent , but ' tis too late . No torment is so bad as love , So bitter to my soul can prove . All my griefs to this are jolly , Nought so harsh as melancholy . Friends and companions ...
Стр. 13
... nights and days Sounds your praise , Pity me my fault confessing . Or , if I may not desire That your ire May with penance be suspended ; Yet , let me full pardon crave , When I have With soon death my fault amended . A Fiction how ...
... nights and days Sounds your praise , Pity me my fault confessing . Or , if I may not desire That your ire May with penance be suspended ; Yet , let me full pardon crave , When I have With soon death my fault amended . A Fiction how ...
Стр. 19
... night , Waters hanging in the air , Heaven of heavens , his praise declare ! His deserved praise record , His , who made you by his word— Made you evermore to last , Set bounds not to be past . you Let the earth his praise resound ...
... night , Waters hanging in the air , Heaven of heavens , his praise declare ! His deserved praise record , His , who made you by his word— Made you evermore to last , Set bounds not to be past . you Let the earth his praise resound ...
Стр. 23
... Night Takes from th ' Antipodes her silent flight ; To those dark seas , where horrid winter reigns , And binds the stubborn floods in icy chains ; To Libyan wastes , whose thirst no showers assuage , And where swoln Nilus cools the ...
... Night Takes from th ' Antipodes her silent flight ; To those dark seas , where horrid winter reigns , And binds the stubborn floods in icy chains ; To Libyan wastes , whose thirst no showers assuage , And where swoln Nilus cools the ...
Стр. 25
... night we banish sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft , To give my love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my love good ...
... night we banish sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft , To give my love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind , Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my love good ...
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Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an ..., Том 3 George Ellis Полный просмотр - 1845 |
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Admet Anon beauty beauty's Biographia born breast breath Carew Castara Chloris cloth gilt cloth lettered court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth Earl Earl of Surrey earth Edgar Athel edition English English Poetry engravings eyes fair fancy fate fear flame flowers folly Francis Beaumont GILES FLETCHER grace grief happy hath heart heaven honour joys king kiss Laius language Leicestershire live Lord lov'd Love's Love's cruelty lover maid melancholy mind miscellany mistress morning morocco Muses ne'er never night nymph o'er Oxford passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetical poetry praise printed published reduced reign rose Saxon says Wood scorn Scotland Shakspeare sighs sing small 8vo smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul specimen spring stanzas sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON thought Translation vols wanton WAVERLEY NOVELS Whilst wind wings youth
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Стр. 176 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Стр. 25 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Стр. 122 - 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.
Стр. 204 - CAPTAIN or colonel, or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee, for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses...
Стр. 255 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Стр. 224 - ... 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?
Стр. 256 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Стр. 231 - The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly) ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face ; I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.
Стр. 90 - The strange music of the waves Beating on these hollow caves, This black den which rocks emboss, Overgrown with eldest moss, The rude portals that give light More to terror than delight, This my chamber of neglect Walled about with disrespect, From all these and this dull air,— A fit object for despair, — She hath taught me, by her might, To draw comfort and delight.
Стр. 203 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.