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angels blessed blows brave breath Butler Byron canto Childe Harold Cowper dark death Devil divine Don Juan doth dream Dryden Dunciad earth Essay on Criticism eyes faith fall fame Farewell fear feast fools give Goldsmith grave Hamlet hath heart heaven hell Henry Henry IV Henry VI honest honour hope hour Hudibras human Ibid immortal Juliet Julius King King Lear Lady light live look Lord Macbeth man's Measure for Measure Memoriam Merchant of Venice merry Milton mind nature Nature's ne'er never night numbers o'er Othello Paradise Lost pleasure poor Pope Queen rhyme Richard Richard III Romeo and Juliet Shakespere sigh sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit sweet tale tears Tennyson thee There's things thou thought thousand true truth Venice virtue wind wise woman words Wordsworth Young youth
Стр. 25 - It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in— glittering like the morning star, full of life, and splendour, and joy.
Стр. 76 - tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is that word honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! Who hath it? He that died o
Стр. 186 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do: Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Стр. 164 - And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Стр. 163 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood : — List, list, O list!
Стр. 130 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Стр. 173 - I'll example you with thievery: The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun...
Стр. 107 - AWAKE, my St John ! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and to die) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of Man ; A mighty maze ! but not without a plan ; A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot ; Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
Стр. 93 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.
Стр. 139 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.