The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper, Zväzok 5Alexander Chalmers J. Johnson, 1810 |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 75.
Strana 249
... scorne his Kendal - greene 107 , And his patch'd cockers nowe despised beene : Nor list he nowe go whistling to the carre , But sells his teeme , and settleth to the warre . O warre , to them that neuer try'd thee sweete ! When his dead ...
... scorne his Kendal - greene 107 , And his patch'd cockers nowe despised beene : Nor list he nowe go whistling to the carre , But sells his teeme , and settleth to the warre . O warre , to them that neuer try'd thee sweete ! When his dead ...
Strana 267
... Scorne each base lordling ever you disdaines ; And every peasant churle , whose smokie roofe Denied harbour for your deare behoofe . Scorne ye the world before it do complaine , And scorne the world that scorneth you againe . And scorne ...
... Scorne each base lordling ever you disdaines ; And every peasant churle , whose smokie roofe Denied harbour for your deare behoofe . Scorne ye the world before it do complaine , And scorne the world that scorneth you againe . And scorne ...
Strana 268
... scorne that wealth should be the finall end , Whereto the heavenly Muse her course doth bend ; And rather had be pale with learned cares , Than paunched with thy choyce of changed fares . Or doth thy glorie stand in outward glee ? A ...
... scorne that wealth should be the finall end , Whereto the heavenly Muse her course doth bend ; And rather had be pale with learned cares , Than paunched with thy choyce of changed fares . Or doth thy glorie stand in outward glee ? A ...
Strana 276
... scorne his silence to have sold , And have his tongue tyed with strings of gold ? Curius is dead , and buried long since , And all that loved golden abstinence . Might he not well repine at his old fee , Would he but spare to speake of ...
... scorne his silence to have sold , And have his tongue tyed with strings of gold ? Curius is dead , and buried long since , And all that loved golden abstinence . Might he not well repine at his old fee , Would he but spare to speake of ...
Strana 278
... scorne his Kendall - Greene , And his patch'd cockers now despised beene . Nor list he now go whistling to the carre , But sells his teeme and setleth to the warre . O warre ! to them that never try'd thee , sweete ! When his dead mate ...
... scorne his Kendall - Greene , And his patch'd cockers now despised beene . Nor list he now go whistling to the carre , But sells his teeme and setleth to the warre . O warre ! to them that never try'd thee , sweete ! When his dead mate ...
Časté výrazy a frázy
angels bear beasts beauty Ben Jonson blood bloud body breath breed brest COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court dare dead dear death didst disdaine Donne dost doth Earth ELEGY eyes face fair fall falne fame farre fear fire flames foes friends give glory God's grace grief grone hand hate hath haue heart Heaven Hell honour horrour JOHN DONNE king light liv'd live look Lord loue lov'd love's lust mind Muse never night nought once paine pleasure poet poison'd poor pow'r praise prince rage rais'd rest SATIRE III SATIRE VI Satires scape scorne seem'd shame sight sinne sonne SONNET soul sprite straight strange Sunne sweet tears terrour thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true twixt unto us'd verse vex'd virtue Whil'st wrath wretched
Populárne pasáže
Strana 46 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Strana 56 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Strana 69 - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!
Strana 451 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Strana 198 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Strana 69 - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Strana 71 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither ! Here shall we see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i...
Strana 55 - The forward violet thus did I chide ; — Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
Strana 59 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
Strana 55 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him: Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...