Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - Всего страниц: 958 |
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Стр. 62
... once there did In Chevy Chase befall . To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Piercy took his way : The hunting of that day ! The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make , His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer ...
... once there did In Chevy Chase befall . To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Piercy took his way : The hunting of that day ! The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make , His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer ...
Стр. 93
... once more , oh ye laurels , and once more Ye myrtles brown , with ivy never sere , I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And , with forced fingers rude , Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year : Bitter constraint , and ...
... once more , oh ye laurels , and once more Ye myrtles brown , with ivy never sere , I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And , with forced fingers rude , Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year : Bitter constraint , and ...
Стр. 97
... once in Milton . * Or , Serpentarins , the serpent - bearer , a conspicuous constel- Lation in the northern hemisphere . So frowned the mighty combatants that hell Grew darker at their frown ; so matched they stood , For never but once ...
... once in Milton . * Or , Serpentarins , the serpent - bearer , a conspicuous constel- Lation in the northern hemisphere . So frowned the mighty combatants that hell Grew darker at their frown ; so matched they stood , For never but once ...
Стр. 104
... once . FROM " MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS . " Far greater numbers have been lost by hopes Than all the magazines of daggers , ropes , And other ammunitions of despair , Were ever able to despatch by fear . In Rome no temple was so low As ...
... once . FROM " MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS . " Far greater numbers have been lost by hopes Than all the magazines of daggers , ropes , And other ammunitions of despair , Were ever able to despatch by fear . In Rome no temple was so low As ...
Стр. 109
... once , and only once , in love , he was too shy to tell his passion . He had " the modesty of a man of genius and the humility of a Christian . " In his style he belongs to the metaphysical school , of which Donne was the founder : its ...
... once , and only once , in love , he was too shy to tell his passion . He had " the modesty of a man of genius and the humility of a Christian . " In his style he belongs to the metaphysical school , of which Donne was the founder : its ...
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Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
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Стр. 99 - 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-labor, light denied ?
Стр. 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Стр. 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Стр. 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Стр. 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Стр. 290 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Стр. 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Стр. 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Стр. 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Стр. 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.