Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, Том 1Bulmer, 1803 - Всего страниц: 458 |
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Стр. 63
... head , What virtues rare were temper'd in that breast , — Honour the place that such a jewel bred , And kiss the ground whereas thy corse ' doth rest ! * Of the same . WYATT resteth here , that quick could never rest , Whose heavenly ...
... head , What virtues rare were temper'd in that breast , — Honour the place that such a jewel bred , And kiss the ground whereas thy corse ' doth rest ! * Of the same . WYATT resteth here , that quick could never rest , Whose heavenly ...
Стр. 80
... head unmov'd . His hasting to those Fates the very knights Be loth to see , and , rage rebated , when They his bare neck beheld , and his hoar hairs , Scant could they hold the tears that forth ' gan burst , And almost fell from bloody ...
... head unmov'd . His hasting to those Fates the very knights Be loth to see , and , rage rebated , when They his bare neck beheld , and his hoar hairs , Scant could they hold the tears that forth ' gan burst , And almost fell from bloody ...
Стр. 81
... head . The Latin Muses , and the Grayes they wept , And for his fall eternally shall weep . And lo ! heart - piercing Pitho ( strange to tell ) Who had to him suffic'd both sense and words , When so he spake , and dress'd with nectar ...
... head . The Latin Muses , and the Grayes they wept , And for his fall eternally shall weep . And lo ! heart - piercing Pitho ( strange to tell ) Who had to him suffic'd both sense and words , When so he spake , and dress'd with nectar ...
Стр. 86
... head . For Age with stealing steps Hath claw'd me with his crowch , And lusty Life away she leaps , As there had been none such . My Muse doth not delight Me , as she did before : My hand and pen are not in plight As they have been of ...
... head . For Age with stealing steps Hath claw'd me with his crowch , And lusty Life away she leaps , As there had been none such . My Muse doth not delight Me , as she did before : My hand and pen are not in plight As they have been of ...
Стр. 89
... : But virtues of the mind unto The heavens with us we have . Wherefore , for virtue's sake I can be well content The sweetest time of all my life To deem in thinking spent . Being asked the occasion of his white head , he LORD VAUX . 89.
... : But virtues of the mind unto The heavens with us we have . Wherefore , for virtue's sake I can be well content The sweetest time of all my life To deem in thinking spent . Being asked the occasion of his white head , he LORD VAUX . 89.
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Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an ..., Том 1 George Ellis Полный просмотр - 1801 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Astrophel and Stella beauty bird bliss born breast Chaucer cheer Christ's College court Cupid dainty dame dear death delight disdain doth E'en earl England's Helicon English eyes fair faith farewell favour fear flowers following specimens Gloss Gorboduc grace green Greensleeves grief hairs Harpalus hath heart heaven Henry VIII honour king kiss lady live look lord lov'd Love's lover lullaby lute mind mourning Muse never night nought Oxford pain pity poems poetical poetry poets praise prep printed pron Puttenham Queen reign scorn shepherd sighs sight sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt Sith song SONNET soul summer queen sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thought translated tree unto verse Vide Sibbald Warton wight wind wine Wood words worth marriage wouldest not love youth
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Стр. 349 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it. My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Стр. 389 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Стр. 352 - Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.
Стр. 351 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Стр. 334 - Tell them that brave it most, They beg for more by spending, Who, in their greatest cost, Seek nothing but commending: And if they make reply Then give them all the lie.
Стр. 346 - Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night ' That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide...
Стр. 220 - Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields, To wayward winter reckoning yields, A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Стр. 388 - Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns, that set, may rise again ; . But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Стр. 243 - CUPID and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin ; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?* THE SONGS...
Стр. 348 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head ? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell ALL.