Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Том 1Bulmer, 1803 - Всего страниц: 458 |
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Стр. 24
... flowers I saw Under dame Nature's mantle lurking law . 4 But these beauties are merely incidental ; the poet's principal object being to instruct the king in the philosophy of that age , and above all to inspire him with a just sense of ...
... flowers I saw Under dame Nature's mantle lurking law . 4 But these beauties are merely incidental ; the poet's principal object being to instruct the king in the philosophy of that age , and above all to inspire him with a just sense of ...
Стр. 61
... flower's bale . And thus I see , among these pleasant things , Each care 2 decays , and yet my sorrow springs ! Praise of certain psalms of David , translated by THE Sir Thomas Wyatt , the elder . great Macedon , that out of Persie ...
... flower's bale . And thus I see , among these pleasant things , Each care 2 decays , and yet my sorrow springs ! Praise of certain psalms of David , translated by THE Sir Thomas Wyatt , the elder . great Macedon , that out of Persie ...
Стр. 72
... By steadfast love doth stand ; Where foul debate breeds bitter bale In each divided land . O friendship , flower of flowers ! O lively sprite of life ! O sacred bond of blissful peace , The stalworth stanch 72 NICHOLAS GRIMOALD .
... By steadfast love doth stand ; Where foul debate breeds bitter bale In each divided land . O friendship , flower of flowers ! O lively sprite of life ! O sacred bond of blissful peace , The stalworth stanch 72 NICHOLAS GRIMOALD .
Стр. 98
... flowering time , thy pleasant years ! With sighing voice weep and lament , For of thy hope no fruit appears : Thy true meaning is paid with scorn , That ever sow'th and reap'th no corn . And where thou seeks a quiet port , Thou dost but ...
... flowering time , thy pleasant years ! With sighing voice weep and lament , For of thy hope no fruit appears : Thy true meaning is paid with scorn , That ever sow'th and reap'th no corn . And where thou seeks a quiet port , Thou dost but ...
Стр. 101
... flower a weed , And more a thousand ways . How might I do to get a graff Of this unspotted tree ? For all the rest are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be . This gift alone I shall her give : When Death doth what he can , Her ...
... flower a weed , And more a thousand ways . How might I do to get a graff Of this unspotted tree ? For all the rest are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be . This gift alone I shall her give : When Death doth what he can , Her ...
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Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an ..., Том 1 George Ellis Полный просмотр - 1801 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Astrophel and Stella beauty bird bliss born breast Chaucer cheer Christ's College court Cupid dainty dame dear death delight disdain doth E'en earl England's Helicon English eyes fair faith farewell favour fear flowers following specimens Gloss Gorboduc grace green Greensleeves grief hairs Harpalus hath heart heaven Henry VIII honour king kiss lady live look lord lov'd Love's lover lullaby lute mind mourning Muse never night nought Oxford pain pity poems poetical poetry poets praise prep printed pron Puttenham Queen reign scorn shepherd sighs sight sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt Sith song SONNET soul summer queen sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought translated tree unto verse Vide Sibbald Warton wight wind wine Wood words worth marriage wouldest not love youth
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Стр. 349 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Стр. 389 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 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; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Стр. 352 - Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.
Стр. 351 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Стр. 334 - Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, Who, in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending: And if they make reply Then give them all the lie.
Стр. 346 - Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night ' That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide...
Стр. 220 - Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, To wayward winter reckoning yields, A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Стр. 388 - Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns, that set, may rise again ; . But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Стр. 243 - CUPID and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin ; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?* THE SONGS...
Стр. 348 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.