The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton, and Poet Laureate, Том 2University Press, 1802 |
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The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton, and Poet Laureate Thomas Warton Недоступно для просмотра - 2020 |
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Стр. 120 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
Стр. 21 - And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Стр. 54 - Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Стр. 118 - He made darkness his secret place, his pavilion round about Him with dark water, and thick clouds to cover Him.
Стр. 137 - Thus I sprinkle on thy breast Drops that from my fountain pure, I have kept of precious cure...
Стр. 55 - Along the lofty-window'd hall, The storied tapestry was hung : With minstrelsy the rafters rung Of harps, that with reflected light From the proud gallery glitter'd bright : While gifted bards, a rival throng, (From distant Mona, nurse of song...
Стр. 154 - Its living hues where the warm pencil pours, And breathing forms from the rude marble start, How to life's humbler scene can I depart ? My breast all glowing from those gorgeous...
Стр. 73 - And weapons huge of old renown. Martial prince, 'tis thine to save From dark oblivion Arthur's grave ! So may thy ships securely stem The western frith : thy diadem...
Стр. 177 - Has blasted all the wreaths of ancient age ; No more her groves by Fancy's feet are trod, Each Attic grace has left the lov'd abode. Fall'n is fair Greece ! by Luxury's pleasing bane Seduc'd, she drags a barbarous foreign chain.
Стр. 174 - But principally I hate and detest that animal called man, although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so forth. This is the system upon which I have governed myself many years (but do not tell), and so I shall go on till I have done with them.