First period. Second period. From Spenser to DrydenJames Nichol, 1860 |
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Стр. vi
... became a monk in the Irish monastery of Benchor ; and afterwards , at the head of twelve disciples , preached Christianity , in its most ascetic form , in England and in France ; founded in the latter country various monasteries ; and ...
... became a monk in the Irish monastery of Benchor ; and afterwards , at the head of twelve disciples , preached Christianity , in its most ascetic form , in England and in France ; founded in the latter country various monasteries ; and ...
Стр. xii
... became one of the most knowing men of his age , in geometry , in philosophy , in architecture , and in music . He applied himself to the improvement of his native language ; he translated several valuable works from Latin , and wrote a ...
... became one of the most knowing men of his age , in geometry , in philosophy , in architecture , and in music . He applied himself to the improvement of his native language ; he translated several valuable works from Latin , and wrote a ...
Стр. xvi
... as we shall see imme- diately , Wace's production became the basis of the earliest of English poems . Maistre Wace is the author also of a History of the Normans , which he calls ' Roman de Rou ; ' or xvi INTRODUCTORY ESSAY .
... as we shall see imme- diately , Wace's production became the basis of the earliest of English poems . Maistre Wace is the author also of a History of the Normans , which he calls ' Roman de Rou ; ' or xvi INTRODUCTORY ESSAY .
Стр. xxiv
... became a member of Brunne or Browne , a priory of black canons in the same county . When monastical writers became famous , they were usually designated from the religious houses to which they belonged . Thus it was with Matthew of ...
... became a member of Brunne or Browne , a priory of black canons in the same county . When monastical writers became famous , they were usually designated from the religious houses to which they belonged . Thus it was with Matthew of ...
Стр. xliv
... became so confuse he cunneth not look , And as dumb as death , and drew him arear , And for no carping I could after , nor kneeling to the earth I might get no grain of his greate wits , But all laughing he louted , and looked upon ...
... became so confuse he cunneth not look , And as dumb as death , and drew him arear , And for no carping I could after , nor kneeling to the earth I might get no grain of his greate wits , But all laughing he louted , and looked upon ...
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Barbour beauty Ben Jonson birds Blind Harry body born breast castle Chaucer Confessio Amantis Court crown dance death died doth Dowell Earl earth English English Poetry eyes face fair feast fire flame flowers genius Geoffrey of Monmouth GILES FLETCHER gold golden Gower grace grief Hail hand Harpalus hast hath heart heaven heavenly Henry honour horse James JOHN BARBOUR JOHN GOWER JOSHUA SYLVESTER kind king lady land Layamon light live look Lord Love's lusty Lyndsay mind muse never night Nightingale noble nought nymphs Piers Plowman poem poet poetry praise prince Queen quoth Raleigh reign rich Richard Saladin Scotland shine sight sing sleep song sonnets soul spirit sweet tell thee thine things thou thought Tower tree unto verse Wallace wassail wrote youth
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Стр. 275 - Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day ; For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale, when May is past ; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note. Ask me no more where those stars 'light That downwards fall in dead of night ; For in your eyes they sit, and there Fixed become, as in their sphere. Ask me no more if east or west The phcenix builds her spicy nest ; For unto...
Стр. 115 - Townsfolk my strength ; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them, who did excel in this, Think Nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shot awry ! the true cause is, STELLA looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
Стр. 259 - Soul of the age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
Стр. 113 - ... comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old ; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work and her hands kept time to her voice-music.
Стр. 277 - 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?
Стр. 278 - Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring, It was too wide a peck : And to say truth, for out it must, ' It look'd like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they fear'd the light : But oh ! she dances such a way — No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Стр. 209 - Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Стр. 114 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks ; thy languisht grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries...
Стр. 122 - Times go by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her tides have equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Стр. 254 - ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another Fair, and learned, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.