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Addison admirable appear beauty better black crows bless born called character Chaucer Christian church Cicero death delight divine doth earth elegant ELIZABETH TOLLET England English English language English Poetry Essay eternal eyes Faerie Queene fair fame fancy father fear flowers genius give grace hand happy hath hear heart heaven holy honor hope human Isaac Bickerstaff Italy John Partridge king labor lady language learning live look Lord Lycidas manner mind moral nature never night o'er Paradise Lost passion person pleased pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Pope praise prose published reason religion rich rise says shade Shakspeare smile song soon soul spirit style sweet taste Tatler tears thee things Thomas Chatterton Thomas Yalden thou thought tion truth verse Virgil virtue words writings young youth
Стр. 164 - ... some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books ; else distilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man ; conference a ready man ; and writing an exact man...
Стр. 253 - Tunes her nocturnal note: thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Стр. 135 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes,...
Стр. 363 - If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled ; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?
Стр. 598 - 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.
Стр. 266 - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks: methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam...
Стр. 137 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow, blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, when he thinks, — good, easy man, — full surely His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Стр. 137 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ; I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes...
Стр. 260 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all...
Стр. 244 - Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas* is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.