Homage to John Dryden: Three Essays on Poetry of the Seventeenth Century

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L. and Virginia Woolf, 1924 - 46 strán (strany)
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Strana 14 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Strana 18 - A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay...
Strana 22 - FAREWELL, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think, and call my own ; For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine.
Strana 26 - He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Strana 44 - Tis madness to resist or blame The face of angry heaven's flame ; And if we would speak true, Much to the Man is due Who, from his private gardens, where He lived reserved and austere (As if his highest plot To plant the bergamot) Could by industrious valour climb To ruin the great work of time, And cast the Kingdoms old Into another mould.
Strana 37 - TO HIS COY MISTRESS HAD we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews; My vegetable...
Strana 43 - What the unsearchable dispose Of highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously...
Strana 18 - The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia swarms; Mouths without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence; Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever, but in times of need, at hand...
Strana 37 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Strana 40 - And sends the fowls to us in care On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.

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