The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie

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Society, 1887 - Всего страниц: 256

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Стр. 351 - Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth ; those male, These feminine : For Spirits, when they please, Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft And uncompounded is their essence pure ; Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, Like cumbrous flesh...
Стр. 323 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Стр. 349 - Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful!
Стр. 305 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Стр. 287 - Ut queant laxis resonare fibris Mira gestorum famuli tuorum Solve polluti labii reatum Sancte Joannes.
Стр. 357 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Стр. 307 - ... he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play and old men from the chimney corner...
Стр. 356 - Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind...
Стр. 356 - Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on...
Стр. 367 - Distaffe standing in the mid, And with unwearied fingers drawing out The lines of life, from living knowledge hid. Sad Clotho held the rocke, the whiles the thrid By griesly Lachesis was spun with paine, That cruell Atropos eftsoones undid, With cursed knife cutting the twist in twaine : Most wretched men, whose dayes depend on thrids so vaine ! XLIX.

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