The Works of John Dryden: Now First Collected ...

¾ÕÇ¥Áö
W. Miller, 1808

µµ¼­ º»¹®¿¡¼­

¼±ÅÃµÈ ÆäÀÌÁö

±âŸ ÃâÆǺ» - ¸ðµÎ º¸±â

ÀÚÁÖ ³ª¿À´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× ±¸¹®

Àαâ Àο뱸

183 ÆäÀÌÁö - In flower of youth and beauty's pride : — Happy, happy, happy pair ! None but the brave None but the brave None but the brave deserves the fair...
160 ÆäÀÌÁö - Three poets in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn; The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go, To make a third she joined the former two.
186 ÆäÀÌÁö - Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of Chance below ; And, now and then, a sigh he stole, And tears began to flow.
169 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depth of pains and height of passion For the fair disdainful dame.
316 ÆäÀÌÁö - But whither went his soul, let such relate Who search the secrets of the future state : Divines can say but what themselves believe ; Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative ; For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, And faith itself be lost in certainty. To live uprightly, then, is sure the best ; To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest.
170 ÆäÀÌÁö - To all the blessed above ; So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.
62 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thou shalt be seen (Though with some short parenthesis between) High on the throne of wit; and seated there, Not mine (that's little) but thy laurel wear. Thy first attempt an early promise made; That early promise this has more than paid. So bold, yet so judiciously you dare, That your least praise is to be regular. Time, place, and action may with pains be wrought, But genius must be born, and never can be taught.
190 ÆäÀÌÁö - CREATOR spirit, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come visit every pious mind ; Come pour thy joys on human kind ; From sin and sorrow set us free, And make thy temples worthy thee.
185 ÆäÀÌÁö - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure : Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain...
191 ÆäÀÌÁö - Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe : Give us thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by thee. Immortal honour, endless fame, Attend the...

µµ¼­ ¹®ÇåÁ¤º¸