The English Poets, Band 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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Seite 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 . Sextain.
... 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 . Sextain.
Seite 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 ...
Seite 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 ...
Seite 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 ...
Seite 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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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw 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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 311 - And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Seite 348 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Seite 10 - 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.
Seite 333 - 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.
Seite 214 - 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.
Seite 174 - 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?
Seite 450 - 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.
Seite 297 - 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...
Seite 353 - 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.
Seite 320 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days : But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise...