A Poetry-book of Elder Poets: Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics, Selected and Arranged, with Notes, from the Works of the Elder English Poets, Dating from the Beginning of the Fourteenth Century to the Middle of the Eighteenth CenturyB. Tauchnitz, 1878 - Всего страниц: 298 |
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Стр. 33
... grave , Know ' tis as various as yourselves , Now in the deep , then on the shelves , His coffin toss'd by fish and surges fell , Whilst Willy weeps and bids all joy farewell . Elder Poets . 3 34 THE SHEPHERD'S ELEGY . Had he , Arion like.
... grave , Know ' tis as various as yourselves , Now in the deep , then on the shelves , His coffin toss'd by fish and surges fell , Whilst Willy weeps and bids all joy farewell . Elder Poets . 3 34 THE SHEPHERD'S ELEGY . Had he , Arion like.
Стр. 41
... No exorciser harm thee ! Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! Nothing ill come near thee ! Quiet consummation have ; And renowned be thy grave ! W. Shakespeare . 42 A SEA DIRGE . A SEA DIRGE . FULL W Shakespeare.
... No exorciser harm thee ! Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! Nothing ill come near thee ! Quiet consummation have ; And renowned be thy grave ! W. Shakespeare . 42 A SEA DIRGE . A SEA DIRGE . FULL W Shakespeare.
Стр. 46
... grave : Acquaintance I would have ; but when't depends Not on the number , but the choice of friends . Books should , not business , entertain the light , And sleep , as undisturb'd as death , the night . My house a cottage , more Than ...
... grave : Acquaintance I would have ; but when't depends Not on the number , but the choice of friends . Books should , not business , entertain the light , And sleep , as undisturb'd as death , the night . My house a cottage , more Than ...
Стр. 49
... grave , And thou must die . Sweet spring , full of sweet days and roses , A box where sweets compacted lie , My music shows you have your closes , And all must die . Only a sweet and virtuous soul , Like seasoned timber , never gives ...
... grave , And thou must die . Sweet spring , full of sweet days and roses , A box where sweets compacted lie , My music shows you have your closes , And all must die . Only a sweet and virtuous soul , Like seasoned timber , never gives ...
Стр. 56
... grave . It is a flower - which buds , and grows , And withers as the leaves disclose ; Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep , Like fits of waking before sleep ; Then shrinks into that fatal mould Where its first being was enroll'd ...
... grave . It is a flower - which buds , and grows , And withers as the leaves disclose ; Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep , Like fits of waking before sleep ; Then shrinks into that fatal mould Where its first being was enroll'd ...
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A Poetry-Book of Elder Poets, Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics ... Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ALEXANDER SELKIRK AULD ROBIN GRAY BATTLE OF AGINCOURT Beaumont beauty birds Blake breath bright CHRIST'S NATIVITY crown dear death doth Dunfermline town earth Edward Elder Poets ELEGY ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA Eurydice eyes fair fairy fear Fletcher flower golden good-morrow grave green grief grove hand hast hath hear heart heaven Helen honour INVERMAY King Kirconnell kiss ladies light Line live Lord LOVE'S LOVER Lycidas lyre Milton moon MORNING OF CHRIST'S Mother Muse Nanny ne'er never night nightingale Noroway notes numbers nymph o'er Osiris pain PATRICK SPENCE Phillida flouts Philomela pleasure poem praise Procne rose sad cypress Sally shade Shakespeare shepherds shine sing SIR PATRICK SPENCE sleep smiling SONG sorrow soul sound spring stream swain sweet tears tell Tereus Thammuz thee things tree unto Verse voice wanton weep wilt thou winds wings Yarrow youth
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Стр. 39 - But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Стр. 85 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
Стр. 19 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Стр. 73 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Стр. 139 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Стр. 117 - When Love with unconfine'd wings Hovers within my Gates ; And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the Grates : When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye ; The Birds, that wanton in the Air, Know no such Liberty.
Стр. 272 - tis said) Before was never made But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung ; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
Стр. 37 - When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Стр. 274 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Стр. 211 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high. His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. " Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove ; Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.