The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three CenturiesRufus Wilmot Griswold D. Appleton & Company, 1853 - Всего страниц: 552 |
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Стр. 5
... Divine Inspiration 123 Jonathan ........ 69 The World . ............ .. 124 SIR JOHN BEAUMONT . Glorying in the Cross .. 125 A Dialogue between the World , a Pilgrim , " False world , thou liest " 126 and Virtue .......... Delight in ...
... Divine Inspiration 123 Jonathan ........ 69 The World . ............ .. 124 SIR JOHN BEAUMONT . Glorying in the Cross .. 125 A Dialogue between the World , a Pilgrim , " False world , thou liest " 126 and Virtue .......... Delight in ...
Стр. 6
... Divine Judgments .. 244 On the Massacre in Piedmont .. 177 The Hebrew Bard . 916 On his Blindness .... 178 A Survey of Man .. 248 A Summer Evening 249 JEREMY TAYLOR . The Wise Men coming to Worship Jesus .... 179 THOMAS PARNELL ...
... Divine Judgments .. 244 On the Massacre in Piedmont .. 177 The Hebrew Bard . 916 On his Blindness .... 178 A Survey of Man .. 248 A Summer Evening 249 JEREMY TAYLOR . The Wise Men coming to Worship Jesus .... 179 THOMAS PARNELL ...
Стр. 12
... DIVINE POET OF ENGLAND . This may , perhaps , be somewhat incorrect ; his writings have , however , a pure , elevating , and beautiful spirit of humanity ; and his " Divine Hymns , " it has been well remarked , are indeed divine ...
... DIVINE POET OF ENGLAND . This may , perhaps , be somewhat incorrect ; his writings have , however , a pure , elevating , and beautiful spirit of humanity ; and his " Divine Hymns , " it has been well remarked , are indeed divine ...
Стр. 33
... Divine Centurie of Spiritual Sonnets , " first published in 1595 . CONTENT . AH ! sweet Content , where is thy mild abode ? Is it with shepherds and light - hearted swains , Which sing upon the downs and pipe abroad , Leading their ...
... Divine Centurie of Spiritual Sonnets , " first published in 1595 . CONTENT . AH ! sweet Content , where is thy mild abode ? Is it with shepherds and light - hearted swains , Which sing upon the downs and pipe abroad , Leading their ...
Стр. 40
... discerneth naught Except the sunbeams in the air do shine ; So the best soul with her reflecting thought Sees not herself without some light divine . Oh ! Light which makest the light , which makes 40 SIR JOHN DAVIES .
... discerneth naught Except the sunbeams in the air do shine ; So the best soul with her reflecting thought Sees not herself without some light divine . Oh ! Light which makest the light , which makes 40 SIR JOHN DAVIES .
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Другие издания - Просмотреть все
The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries Rufus Wilmot Griswold Полный просмотр - 1849 |
The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries Rufus Wilmot Griswold Полный просмотр - 1866 |
The Sacred Poets of England and America: For Three Centuries Rufus Wilmot Griswold Полный просмотр - 1849 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adore angels beams beauty behold beneath blessed blest bliss born breast breath bright brow CARLOS WILCOX CHARLES WESLEY clouds crown dark death deep delight didst Dies Ira divine dost doth dread dust dwell E'en earth Edom eternal fair fear flame flowers glorious glory God's grace grave grief hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly HENRY HART MILMAN holy hope hour HYMN immortal Isaac Williams King light live Lord mercy merry heart mighty mind morning mortal night o'er pain peace PHINEAS FLETCHER pleasure poems poet praise prayer pride PSALM rest rise round sacred Sacred Poets shade shalt shine sigh sight sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring Stabat Mater stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine things THOMAS FLATMAN Thou art thought throne tomb unto voice waves weep wings
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Стр. 355 - But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Стр. 359 - We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May ! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower...
Стр. 170 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Стр. 358 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things...
Стр. 275 - From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression. But I lose Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! Come, then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.
Стр. 172 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around ; The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Стр. 173 - That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below ; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.
Стр. 376 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.
Стр. 171 - Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep, Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still To give us only good ; and, if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light...
Стр. 355 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...