Poetic Treasures: Or, Passages from the Poets. Chronologically ArrangedWard, Lock & Company, 1881 - 644 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 32.
Strana 13
... blest Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest . 2. MISERY His face was lean , and some deal pined away , And eke his hands consumed to the bone ; But what his body was I cannot say , For on his carcase raiment had he none , Save ...
... blest Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest . 2. MISERY His face was lean , and some deal pined away , And eke his hands consumed to the bone ; But what his body was I cannot say , For on his carcase raiment had he none , Save ...
Strana 75
... blest That governs inward , and beholdeth there All his affections stand about him bare , That by his power can send to Tower and death All traitorous passions , marshalling beneath His justice his mere will , and in his mind Holds with ...
... blest That governs inward , and beholdeth there All his affections stand about him bare , That by his power can send to Tower and death All traitorous passions , marshalling beneath His justice his mere will , and in his mind Holds with ...
Strana 95
... blest , In that the sapless log , that pressed thy bed With an unpleasant weight , being lifted hence , E'en I Piero live to warm his place . I tell you , lady , had you viewed us DAVISON - MARSTON . 95 -JOHN MARSTON, 1574-1634 Piero ...
... blest , In that the sapless log , that pressed thy bed With an unpleasant weight , being lifted hence , E'en I Piero live to warm his place . I tell you , lady , had you viewed us DAVISON - MARSTON . 95 -JOHN MARSTON, 1574-1634 Piero ...
Strana 106
... blest he lives , when he his God can please . His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps , While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; His little son into his bosom creeps , The lively picture of his father's face : Never his ...
... blest he lives , when he his God can please . His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps , While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; His little son into his bosom creeps , The lively picture of his father's face : Never his ...
Strana 111
... blest , Which may merit name of Best ; If she be not such to me , What care I how good she be ? ' Cause her fortune seems too high , Shall I play the fool and die ? Those that bear a noble mind , Where they want of riches find , Think ...
... blest , Which may merit name of Best ; If she be not such to me , What care I how good she be ? ' Cause her fortune seems too high , Shall I play the fool and die ? Those that bear a noble mind , Where they want of riches find , Think ...
Obsah
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Časté výrazy a frázy
beauty birds blest bliss blood blow bosom breast breath bright charms Chaucer Chevy Chase Crazy Jane cried dark dead dear death delight doth dread dream E'en earl Douglas earl Percy earth English poetry Eurydice eyes fair fear flowers frae GILES FLETCHER grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven honour hope hour Hudibras JOHN GOWER king light live look lord Lycidas lyre maid mind morn muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er pain peace pleasure poetry poets poor praise rill rise ROBERT SOUTHWELL rose round Saint Serf shade sigh sight sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale voice wave weep wild wind wings youth
Populárne pasáže
Strana 135 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of Knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
Strana 531 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Strana 163 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Strana 39 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered, — We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...
Strana 85 - 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.
Strana 50 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Strana 124 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strana 120 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That had'st thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, —...
Strana 483 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle-blade ; And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry.
Strana 22 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten: In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love.