The English Poets, Nide 2Macmillan, 1885 |
Kirjan sisältä
Tulokset 1 - 5 kokonaismäärästä 74
Sivu viii
... Nature Cherry - ripe The Bride - Cake · His Prayer to Ben Jonson An Ode for Ben Jonson • 130 • 132 133 • 133 134 134 135 • 136 136 · 137 • 139 139 · 140 • 140 • • 141 141 · 141 · · 142 To Anthea · To the Same • To Perilla • The Wake ...
... Nature Cherry - ripe The Bride - Cake · His Prayer to Ben Jonson An Ode for Ben Jonson • 130 • 132 133 • 133 134 134 135 • 136 136 · 137 • 139 139 · 140 • 140 • • 141 141 · 141 · · 142 To Anthea · To the Same • To Perilla • The Wake ...
Sivu 8
... nature's pride is now a withered daffodil . VENETIAN SONG1 . [ From Volpone ; or , The Fox ( acted 1605 ) . Act I. Sc . 6. ] Come , my Celia , let us prove , While we can , the sports of love . Time will not be ours for ever ; He , at ...
... nature's pride is now a withered daffodil . VENETIAN SONG1 . [ From Volpone ; or , The Fox ( acted 1605 ) . Act I. Sc . 6. ] Come , my Celia , let us prove , While we can , the sports of love . Time will not be ours for ever ; He , at ...
Sivu 16
... Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature . Years he numbered scarce thirteen When Fates turned cruel , Yet three filled zodiacs had he been The stage's jewel ; And did act , what now we moan , Old men so duly , As , sooth , the ...
... Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature . Years he numbered scarce thirteen When Fates turned cruel , Yet three filled zodiacs had he been The stage's jewel ; And did act , what now we moan , Old men so duly , As , sooth , the ...
Sivu 19
... Nature herself was proud of his designs , And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines , In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakspeare , beginning― ' Renowned Spenser , lie a thought more nigh • Seneca . To learned Chaucer ; and rare ...
... Nature herself was proud of his designs , And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines , In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakspeare , beginning― ' Renowned Spenser , lie a thought more nigh • Seneca . To learned Chaucer ; and rare ...
Sivu 20
... Nature's family . Yet must I not give Nature all ; thy Art , My gentle Shakspeare , must enjoy a part . For though the poet's matter nature be , His art doth give the fashion ; and that he1 Who casts to write a living line , must sweat ...
... Nature's family . Yet must I not give Nature all ; thy Art , My gentle Shakspeare , must enjoy a part . For though the poet's matter nature be , His art doth give the fashion ; and that he1 Who casts to write a living line , must sweat ...
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Muita painoksia - Näytä kaikki
Yleiset termit ja lausekkeet
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley 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 hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson king kiss Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night nymphs o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise pride reign rose sacred shade 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
Suositut otteet
Sivu 313 - 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.
Sivu 176 - 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 ? Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Sivu 14 - 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.
Sivu 216 - 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.
Sivu 386 - s made To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide : There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and claps its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
Sivu 324 - Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves ; Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
Sivu 455 - A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Sivu 299 - 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...
Sivu 311 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy 'divine, 100 Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskined stage. But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
Sivu 326 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.