The English Poets, 2권Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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12 페이지
... thee , less thou for them . Say that thou pour'st them wheat , And they will acorns eat ; ' Twere simple fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste ! To offer them a surfeit of pure bread Whose appetites are dead ! No , give ...
... thee , less thou for them . Say that thou pour'st them wheat , And they will acorns eat ; ' Twere simple fury still thyself to waste On such as have no taste ! To offer them a surfeit of pure bread Whose appetites are dead ! No , give ...
13 페이지
... thee by Pindar's fire : And though thy nerves be shrunk , and blood be cold , Ere years have made thee old , Strike that disdainful heat Throughout , to their defeat , As curious fools , and envious of thy strain , May , blushing ...
... thee by Pindar's fire : And though thy nerves be shrunk , and blood be cold , Ere years have made thee old , Strike that disdainful heat Throughout , to their defeat , As curious fools , and envious of thy strain , May , blushing ...
14 페이지
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
18 페이지
... thee , the issue of Jove's brain . And , since our dainty age Cannot endure reproof , Make not thyself a page To that strumpet the stage ; But sing high and aloof , Safe from the wolf's black jaw , and the dull ass's hoof . TO THE ...
... thee , the issue of Jove's brain . And , since our dainty age Cannot endure reproof , Make not thyself a page To that strumpet the stage ; But sing high and aloof , Safe from the wolf's black jaw , and the dull ass's hoof . TO THE ...
19 페이지
... thee by Chaucer , or Spenser , or bid Beaumont lie A little further , to make thee a room1 : Thou art a monument without a tomb , And art alive still while thy book doth live , And we have wits to read , and praise to give . That I not mix ...
... thee by Chaucer , or Spenser , or bid Beaumont lie A little further , to make thee a room1 : Thou art a monument without a tomb , And art alive still while thy book doth live , And we have wits to read , and praise to give . That I not mix ...
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Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw 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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311 페이지 - And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
348 페이지 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
10 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.
333 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.
214 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.
174 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?
450 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.
297 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...
353 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.
320 페이지 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days : But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise...