Love Songs of English Poets, 1500-1800W. Heinemann, 1892 - Всего страниц: 277 |
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Стр. 86
... I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be . Ben Jonson But thou thereon didst only breathe , And 86 BEN JONSON Song to Celia.
... I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be . Ben Jonson But thou thereon didst only breathe , And 86 BEN JONSON Song to Celia.
Стр. 121
... well near ; And , in love with all together , Feared the enjoying either : ' Cause to be of one possess'd , Barr'd the hope of all the rest . Thomas Carew was probably born in Gloucestershire in 1589. Shortly 121 A Madrigal ·
... well near ; And , in love with all together , Feared the enjoying either : ' Cause to be of one possess'd , Barr'd the hope of all the rest . Thomas Carew was probably born in Gloucestershire in 1589. Shortly 121 A Madrigal ·
Стр. 131
... hope ere long I may In silence doat myself away . I ask no pity , Love , from thee , Nor will thy justice blame , So that thou wilt not envy me The glory of my flame ; Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies , In that it falls her ...
... hope ere long I may In silence doat myself away . I ask no pity , Love , from thee , Nor will thy justice blame , So that thou wilt not envy me The glory of my flame ; Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies , In that it falls her ...
Стр. 148
... hope , my love Did all within this circle move . A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good , and all that's fair ; Give me but what this riband bound , Take all the rest the sun goes round . Lines to a Rose Go , lovely rose ...
... hope , my love Did all within this circle move . A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good , and all that's fair ; Give me but what this riband bound , Take all the rest the sun goes round . Lines to a Rose Go , lovely rose ...
Стр. 198
... hope , at once all hope suppress . You scorn ; yet should my passion change , or fail , Too late you'd whimper out a softer tale . You love ; yet from your lover's wish retire ; Doubt , yet discern ; deny , and yet desire . Such , Polly ...
... hope , at once all hope suppress . You scorn ; yet should my passion change , or fail , Too late you'd whimper out a softer tale . You love ; yet from your lover's wish retire ; Doubt , yet discern ; deny , and yet desire . Such , Polly ...
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beauty behold Ben Jonson blest bliss blush born in London bosom breast breath bright Charles Charles Lamb Charles Whitehead charms cheek Cupid dear death delight died doth dream earth Edmund Gosse English eyes fair Falero Felicia Dorothea Hemans flame flowers fond gaze gentle Giles Fletcher give grace hath heart heaven Herrick John Dryden Johnson King kiss Lady Landor lero Lest light lips live look Lord Byron love thee-I love Love's lover maid maidens married Mary ne'er never night o'er pain passion play poems poet poetry pretty Richard Savage rose Samuel Taylor Coleridge sh'as left Shakespeare Shelley shine sigh silent sing smile soft song Sonnet soul sweet tears tell thee-I love thee thine Thomas Thomas Carew thou art thought twas verse vows Walter Savage Landor weep whilst William William Congreve William Wordsworth Woman Wordsworth wrote
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Стр. 266 - BRIGHT star ! would I were steadfast as thou art,— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...
Стр. 69 - 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. 57 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.
Стр. 226 - All impulses of soul and sense had thrilled my guileless Genevieve; The music, and the doleful tale, the rich and balmy eve ; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, an undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, subdued and cherished long. She wept with pity and delight, she blushed with love and virgin shame ; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name.
Стр. 143 - Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be ! Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart I'll give to thee.
Стр. 141 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For...
Стр. 224 - With downcast eyes and modest grace For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land.
Стр. 217 - I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed The bowers where Lucy played; And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes surveyed.
Стр. 148 - 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. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Стр. 55 - A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my Love.
Ссылки на эту книгу
The Magazine of Poetry and Literary Review, Том 5,Выпуск 1 Charles Wells Moulton Полный просмотр - 1893 |