Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, with a Biography of Each Poet, &c, Том 3 |
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Стр. 100
Wit she hath , without desire To make known how much she hath ; And her anger
flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath ; Full of pity as may be , Though ,
perhaps , not so to me . Reason masters every sense , And her virtues grace her
...
Wit she hath , without desire To make known how much she hath ; And her anger
flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath ; Full of pity as may be , Though ,
perhaps , not so to me . Reason masters every sense , And her virtues grace her
...
Стр. 103
Fear not your ships , Nor any to oppose you , save our lips ; But come on shore ,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more . For swelling waves , our panting
breasts , Where never storms arise , Exchange , and be a while our guests ; !
Fear not your ships , Nor any to oppose you , save our lips ; But come on shore ,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more . For swelling waves , our panting
breasts , Where never storms arise , Exchange , and be a while our guests ; !
Стр. 379
An ugly snake , they call a bee , ( O see it swell ) hath murder ' d me . ” Venus with
smiles replied , “ O sir , Does a bee ' s sting make all this stir ? Think what pains
then attend those darts Wherewith thou still art wounding hearts . E ' en let it ...
An ugly snake , they call a bee , ( O see it swell ) hath murder ' d me . ” Venus with
smiles replied , “ O sir , Does a bee ' s sting make all this stir ? Think what pains
then attend those darts Wherewith thou still art wounding hearts . E ' en let it ...
Стр. 403
Breton , ii . 248 . still . Cotton , iii . 334 . Muse , be a bride - maid ! dost not Lordly
gallants , tell me this . hear . Randolph , ij . 195 . Wither , iii . 77 . My golden locks
time hath to Love and my Mistress were at silver turn ' d . Anon . , ii . 362 . strife .
Breton , ii . 248 . still . Cotton , iii . 334 . Muse , be a bride - maid ! dost not Lordly
gallants , tell me this . hear . Randolph , ij . 195 . Wither , iii . 77 . My golden locks
time hath to Love and my Mistress were at silver turn ' d . Anon . , ii . 362 . strife .
Стр. 405
Seven times hath Janus ta ' en Still do the stars impart their new year by hand .
Tusser , light . Cartwright , iii . 214 . ii . 123 . Still to be neat , still to be drest . Shall
I , hopeless , then pursue . Jonson , ii . 349 . Sherburne , iii . 241 . Sweet are the ...
Seven times hath Janus ta ' en Still do the stars impart their new year by hand .
Tusser , light . Cartwright , iii . 214 . ii . 123 . Still to be neat , still to be drest . Shall
I , hopeless , then pursue . Jonson , ii . 349 . Sherburne , iii . 241 . Sweet are the ...
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Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an ..., Том 3 George Ellis Полный просмотр - 1845 |
Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an ..., Том 1 George Ellis Полный просмотр - 1803 |
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Anon appear beauty born breath called cause cloth College court dear death delight desire died doth Earl early earth edition English epigrams eyes face fair fate fear fire flame flowers gilt give grace grief grow hand happy hath hear heart heaven hope John joys king language learning leave less lettered light live look Lord Love's lover mind morning move Muses Nature never night Notes once Oxford passion plays pleasure poems poet poetry poor printed prove published reduced reign rest rose scorn seems sighs sing smile SONG soul specimen spring star stay sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou thought thousand Translation true volume Whilst wind wings Wood young youth
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Стр. 176 - 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.
Стр. 25 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Стр. 122 - 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.
Стр. 204 - CAPTAIN or colonel, or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee, for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses...
Стр. 255 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Стр. 224 - ... 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? Prithee why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't?
Стр. 256 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Стр. 231 - The side that's next the sun. Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly) ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face ; I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.
Стр. 90 - The strange music of the waves Beating on these hollow caves, This black den which rocks emboss, Overgrown with eldest moss, The rude portals that give light More to terror than delight, This my chamber of neglect Walled about with disrespect, From all these and this dull air,— A fit object for despair, — She hath taught me, by her might, To draw comfort and delight.
Стр. 203 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.