The Complete Art of Poetry: In Six Parts, Том 2

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Charles Rivington, 1718
 

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Стр. 303 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her! What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have?
Стр. 262 - The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung , Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young. The jolly god in triumph comes; Sound the trumpets; beat the drums! Flushed with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! Bacchus , ever fair and young , Drinking joys did first ordain : Bacchus...
Стр. 255 - Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own: He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.
Стр. 446 - Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. All. Double, double ... etc. Third Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches...
Стр. 404 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Стр. 218 - Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Стр. 160 - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Стр. 349 - Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake...
Стр. 287 - All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold; and next to Life, Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by, Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill.
Стр. 324 - Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it, when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that struggling to be free Art more engaged! Help, angels! make assay; Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All may be well.

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