A History of English Rhythms, Band 1

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William Pickering, 1838 - 4 Seiten
 

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Seite 156 - 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.
Seite 198 - 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.
Seite 194 - Look not thou on beauty's charming,— Sit thou still when kings are arming, — Taste not when the wine-cup glistens, — Speak not when the people lis-tens, — Stop thine ear against the singer. — From the red gold keep thy finger, — Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, — Easy live and quiet die.
Seite 306 - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Seite 115 - Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels joined the sound : Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round a holy calm diffusing, . Love of peace and lonely musing, — In hollow murmurs died away.
Seite 235 - Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing ! The meaning, not the name, I call ; for thou Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top Of old Olympus dwell'st ; but...
Seite 167 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Seite 170 - Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet ! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet.
Seite 15 - To his bold riot : dreadful was the din Of hissing through the hall, thick -swarming now With complicated monsters...
Seite 125 - The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around: It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound!

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