A Book of Elizabethan LyricsFelix Emmanuel Schelling Ginn, 1895 - Всего страниц: 327 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 20
Стр. xviii
... called upon to write here . Suffice it to say that in these cases it is as easy to interpret mere lyrical hyperbole into a chronique scandaleuse as it is tempting to etherialize real human passion into what Mr. Walter Bagehot called in ...
... called upon to write here . Suffice it to say that in these cases it is as easy to interpret mere lyrical hyperbole into a chronique scandaleuse as it is tempting to etherialize real human passion into what Mr. Walter Bagehot called in ...
Стр. xx
... called , on Sleep , 2 on Death , the Flight of Time , and others . I believe that an examination of the entire literature of the Elizabethan sonnet , with respect to subject and sentiment , would result in the discovery of an unusual ...
... called , on Sleep , 2 on Death , the Flight of Time , and others . I believe that an examination of the entire literature of the Elizabethan sonnet , with respect to subject and sentiment , would result in the discovery of an unusual ...
Стр. xxii
... called his negative originality , by which I mean that trait which caused Donne absolutely to give over 1 The Jacobean Poets , p . 64 . 2 Conversations , as above , p . 8 . the current mannerisms of his time ; to write neither xxii ...
... called his negative originality , by which I mean that trait which caused Donne absolutely to give over 1 The Jacobean Poets , p . 64 . 2 Conversations , as above , p . 8 . the current mannerisms of his time ; to write neither xxii ...
Стр. xxiv
... called it ; and , secondly , as necessity at times pressed upon the broken gentleman , the literary hack was evolved , in such men as Churchyard and Breton , possibly in Nicholas Grimald himself . In character , the Elizabethan poetical ...
... called it ; and , secondly , as necessity at times pressed upon the broken gentleman , the literary hack was evolved , in such men as Churchyard and Breton , possibly in Nicholas Grimald himself . In character , the Elizabethan poetical ...
Стр. xxxii
... called heavy , harsh , and stiff . The harshness , stiffness , and heaviness of the poetical diction of Ben Jonson is precisely as demon- strable as his undying enmity towards Shakespeare : both are the purest figments of the ...
... called heavy , harsh , and stiff . The harshness , stiffness , and heaviness of the poetical diction of Ben Jonson is precisely as demon- strable as his undying enmity towards Shakespeare : both are the purest figments of the ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Astrophel and Stella Beaumont beauty BEN JONSON birds breast Breton bright Bullen Campion couplet Daniel Davison death delight Dirge Donne doth Drayton Drummond earth Elizabethan Elizabethan lyric England's Helicon English eyes fair fear Fleay Fletcher flowers FRANCIS BEAUMONT golden grace Gram green Grosart hath heart heaven honor Italian JOHN FLETCHER Jonson kiss lady live Love's lovers Lyrics from Elizabethan lyrists madrigal metre metrical Michael Drayton mistress Muse never NICHOLAS BRETON night passion pastoral Philip Rosseter Phyllis play pleasure poem Poetical Rhapsody poetry poets praise pretty printed quatorzain Queen rimes SAMUEL DANIEL sense Shakespeare shepherd Sidney sighs sing sleep Song Books sonnet sorrow soul Spenser spring stanza sweet content tercets thee Thomas THOMAS CAMPION THOMAS DEKKER thou art thought trochaic unto verse wanton weep whilst WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE words writing written ΙΟ
Популярные отрывки
Стр. xix - My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses...
Стр. 87 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Стр. 184 - Sheds itself through the face, As alone there triumphs to the life All the gain, all the good, of the elements
Стр. 85 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Стр. 154 - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
Стр. 122 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Стр. 151 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Стр. 86 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it ; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe.
Стр. 128 - He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
Стр. 84 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen...