The English Poets, 2권Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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8 페이지
... weeps out her division , when she sings . Droop herbs and flowers , Fall grief in showers , Our beauties are not ours ; O , I could still , Like melting snow upon some craggy hill , Drop , drop , drop , drop , Since nature's pride is ...
... weeps out her division , when she sings . Droop herbs and flowers , Fall grief in showers , Our beauties are not ours ; O , I could still , Like melting snow upon some craggy hill , Drop , drop , drop , drop , Since nature's pride is ...
16 페이지
... Weep with me , all you that read This little story ; And know , for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry . ' Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature , As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature ...
... Weep with me , all you that read This little story ; And know , for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry . ' Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature , As Heaven and Nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature ...
45 페이지
... Weep no more . ' There is the same buoyant grace in Fletcher's songs , and some- thing more . In that age of songs , many a playwright could produce a lyric or two of the stamp which seems to have been wellnigh lost since ; but songs ...
... Weep no more . ' There is the same buoyant grace in Fletcher's songs , and some- thing more . In that age of songs , many a playwright could produce a lyric or two of the stamp which seems to have been wellnigh lost since ; but songs ...
53 페이지
... Weep no more , nor sigh , nor groan ; Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see ; Joys as winged dreams fly ...
... Weep no more , nor sigh , nor groan ; Sorrow calls no time that's gone ; Violets plucked the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see ; Joys as winged dreams fly ...
75 페이지
... the plains , And as upon a hill she bravely sings Teach humble dales to weep in crystal springs . 1 Drayton . 2 Chapman . 3 Sidney . BOOK II . SONG I. The praise of Spenser . WILLIAM BROWNE . 75 115 The poet's ambition.
... the plains , And as upon a hill she bravely sings Teach humble dales to weep in crystal springs . 1 Drayton . 2 Chapman . 3 Sidney . BOOK II . SONG I. The praise of Spenser . WILLIAM BROWNE . 75 115 The poet's ambition.
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Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley crown death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise reign rose sacred shade shalt shepherds shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
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14 페이지 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And 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.
337 페이지 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
218 페이지 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
178 페이지 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
218 페이지 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.
454 페이지 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
311 페이지 - And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
357 페이지 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
301 페이지 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
20 페이지 - And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines, Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art, My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.