The Book of the Sonnet, Том 1Leigh Hunt, Samuel Adams Lee Roberts Brothers, 1867 |
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Стр. vii
... ITALY V. OF OTHER LEGITIMATE BUT OBSOLETE FORMS OF THE SONNET , PARTICULARLY THE COMIC SONNET • VI . OF ENGLISH Sonnets , and of the SONNET ILLEGITI- MATE , OR QUATORZEN . 52 65 AMERICAN SONNETS AND SONNETEERS . ENGLISH SONNETS . SIR ...
... ITALY V. OF OTHER LEGITIMATE BUT OBSOLETE FORMS OF THE SONNET , PARTICULARLY THE COMIC SONNET • VI . OF ENGLISH Sonnets , and of the SONNET ILLEGITI- MATE , OR QUATORZEN . 52 65 AMERICAN SONNETS AND SONNETEERS . ENGLISH SONNETS . SIR ...
Стр. xiii
... Italy and England , for the purpose of diffusing their seeds and off - sets , wherever the soil can be found congenial ; and therefore , with your leave , and with the privilege of free - speaking which is conceded to guests and ...
... Italy and England , for the purpose of diffusing their seeds and off - sets , wherever the soil can be found congenial ; and therefore , with your leave , and with the privilege of free - speaking which is conceded to guests and ...
Стр. xiv
... Italian sun that warms so much of their terri- tory , and to that extraordinary feathered songster , the Mocking - Bird , which is the only imitator in the world that beats what it imitates . Be this however as it may , and let our ...
... Italian sun that warms so much of their terri- tory , and to that extraordinary feathered songster , the Mocking - Bird , which is the only imitator in the world that beats what it imitates . Be this however as it may , and let our ...
Стр. 3
... Italian and English poetry , " the words carry with them their own recommendation to all who know anything of poetry or music ; yet I always feel so grate- ful to the very sound of the Italian language , when about to put its words on ...
... Italian and English poetry , " the words carry with them their own recommendation to all who know anything of poetry or music ; yet I always feel so grate- ful to the very sound of the Italian language , when about to put its words on ...
Стр. 4
... Italian language , the Sonnet . They would be glad to find how much enjoyment can be got out of the mere perusal of ... Italy are innumerable . only all their celebrated poets are among them , haps it may be said , every poet without ...
... Italian language , the Sonnet . They would be glad to find how much enjoyment can be got out of the mere perusal of ... Italy are innumerable . only all their celebrated poets are among them , haps it may be said , every poet without ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Anna Seward Arezzo beauty birds bloom breath bright brow calm CHARLES LAMB charm clouds Dante dark dear death deep delight divine doth dreams earth ENGLISH SONNETS eyes Faerie Queene fair fancy fear feel flowers gaze gentle glory glow golden grace happy hath heart heaven hills hope hour Italian Italian language Italian poetry Italy lady LEIGH HUNT light live lone look melody mind morn mournful murmur muse nature neath never night o'er pale passion Petrarca poems poet poetical poetry quatrains rhymes rills SARAH JOSEPHA HALE seems Shakespeare shine sighs silent sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spirit spring star strange streams sunny sweet tears thee thine things Thomas Warton thou art thought twilight Varchi Veronica Gambara verse voice wandering waves weary wild winds wings words Wordsworth
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Стр. 236 - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration: the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly.
Стр. 235 - Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men. Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Стр. 179 - LAWRENCE ! of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining ? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
Стр. xii - Scorn not the Sonnet ; Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours ; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart ; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound ; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound ; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow : a glow-worm lamp...
Стр. 160 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Стр. 180 - Purification in the old Law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.
Стр. 272 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
Стр. 263 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Стр. 159 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew ; Nor did...
Стр. 175 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our Fathers worshipped stocks and stones...