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Alfred Tennyson Antonio Bass Bassanio beauty bond called Canterbury Tales Celt Celtic century Chaucer Chauntecleer Christian court death delight doth drama ducats Duke early East Midland English Elizabethan England English literature English poetry Enter Essays Exeunt eyes Faerie Queene fair fortune French genius Geoffrey Chaucer give Gratiano hath heart heaven Henry hire Italian Italy Jessica John John Wyclif Johnson King lady language Laun Launcelot learning literary live London look lord Lorenzo master Merchant Merchant of Venice Milton mind nature Nerissa never night noble Norman Norman Conquest passion period Petrarch play poem poet poetic poetry Pope Portia pray prose race Salar sche Shakespeare Shylock song soul speak Spenser spirit stand story sweet thee things thou thought tion Venice verse whan words writers
Стр. 410 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Стр. 321 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made: But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Стр. 340 - Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Стр. 411 - 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...
Стр. 407 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Стр. 236 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Стр. 411 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Стр. 336 - Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove ; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe ; From vain temptations dost set free ; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity ! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them ; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad Hearts ! without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work, and know it not : Oh ! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy...
Стр. 358 - Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears ! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres ? Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a Death ? and are there two ? Is Death that woman's mate...
Стр. 410 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness!* Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?