Poetry and Poets: A Collection of the Choicest Anecdotes Relative to the Poets of Every Age and Nation. With Specimens of Their Works and Sketches of Their Biography, Том 2

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Sherwood, Gilbert, & Piper, 1826
 

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Стр. 151 - The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For, having lost but...
Стр. 253 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Стр. 151 - But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
Стр. 133 - THOU Eternal One ! whose presence bright All space doth occupy, all motion guide ; Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight : Thou only God ! there is no God beside ! Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! Whom none can comprehend, and none explore...
Стр. 256 - There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, And fire out of his mouth devoured; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down; And darkness was under his feet.
Стр. 11 - Our Tragedies and Comedies (not without cause cried out against), observing rules neither of honest civility nor of skilful Poetry, excepting Gorboduc (again, I say, of those that I have seen), which notwithstanding, as it is full of stately speeches and well-sounding phrases, climbing to the height of Seneca's style, and as full of notable morality, which it doth most delightfully teach, and so obtain the very end of Poesy...
Стр. 197 - Io ne potrò toccare , e non e' è un cane Che mi tolga al mio stato miserando. La mia povera madre non ha pane, Se non da me , ed io non ho danaro Da mantenerla almeno per domane.
Стр. 194 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Стр. 242 - With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, And pages stand mute by the canopied pall : Through the courts at deep midnight the torches are gleaming ; In the proudly arched chapel the banners are beaming ; Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a chief of the people should fall.
Стр. 227 - To answer your question as to Mr. Hughes ; what he wanted in genius, he made up as an honest man ; but he was of the class you think him.

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