Select Beauties of Ancient English PoetryT. Cadell, 1787 - 198 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة v
... Soul implied from its motion , by Sir J. Davies . 14 The Inftability of Human Greatnefs , by P. Fletcher . 15 Falth , by F. Quarles . 17 To the Hon , Mr. W. E , by W. Habington , 19 Sic Vita , by Dr. King . 21 22 To my noblest Friend ...
... Soul implied from its motion , by Sir J. Davies . 14 The Inftability of Human Greatnefs , by P. Fletcher . 15 Falth , by F. Quarles . 17 To the Hon , Mr. W. E , by W. Habington , 19 Sic Vita , by Dr. King . 21 22 To my noblest Friend ...
الصفحة 13
... receive for one halfe day as much As they that toyle till evening , shall we grutch ? Job Militant , Med . 8. by F. Quarles . Ed . 1630 . The The Immortality of the SOUL , implied from its Motion DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECE 9 . 13.
... receive for one halfe day as much As they that toyle till evening , shall we grutch ? Job Militant , Med . 8. by F. Quarles . Ed . 1630 . The The Immortality of the SOUL , implied from its Motion DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECE 9 . 13.
الصفحة 14
Henry Headley. The Immortality of the SOUL , implied from its Motion . The Soul , which in this earthly mould The fpirit of God doth fecretly infuse , Because at firft fhe doth th ' Earth behold , And only this material world fhe views ...
Henry Headley. The Immortality of the SOUL , implied from its Motion . The Soul , which in this earthly mould The fpirit of God doth fecretly infuse , Because at firft fhe doth th ' Earth behold , And only this material world fhe views ...
الصفحة 30
... anker hold alone . The world is but a vanitie , In heaven feeke we our furetie . The Paradife of Daynty Devifes . Fol . 18 , 44. figned F. K. CHURCH CHURCH MONUMENTS . WHILE that my Soul repairs to her 30 DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECES .
... anker hold alone . The world is but a vanitie , In heaven feeke we our furetie . The Paradife of Daynty Devifes . Fol . 18 , 44. figned F. K. CHURCH CHURCH MONUMENTS . WHILE that my Soul repairs to her 30 DIDACTIC AND MORAL PIECES .
الصفحة 31
Henry Headley. CHURCH MONUMENTS . WHILE that my Soul repairs to her devotion , Here I intomb my flesh , that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of duft ; To which the blast of Death's inceffant motion , Fed with the exhalation ...
Henry Headley. CHURCH MONUMENTS . WHILE that my Soul repairs to her devotion , Here I intomb my flesh , that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of duft ; To which the blast of Death's inceffant motion , Fed with the exhalation ...
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againſt alfo almoſt beauty beſt birds cauſe Comus dayes dead dear death defcribing defcription defire doth Drayton Drummond Du Bartas duft Earle earle of March earth Edit ELEGY expreffion fafe fair fame fate feems feen felf ferve fhall fhew fhine fhould fighs filent fince fing firſt flaine fleepe Fletcher flowers fome fong forrow foule fpirit ftill fubject fuch fweet glory grace grief hand hath heart Heaven himſelf honour inftances King laſt lines live loft Lond Lord Milton moft moſt Mufes muft muſt myſelf night obfervations paffage paffed paſt pleaſures Poet poetry Poly-Olbion praiſe prefent Priam profe Quarles Queen reft Robert Fitz Walter Robert Southwell rofe ſay ſhall ſhe Sonne Spenfer ſpent ſtill ſtore ſweet teares thee thefe themſelves theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought unto uſed verfes verſe Vertue whofe whoſe wiſh
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 107 - Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies; When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes : Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.
الصفحة 107 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
الصفحة 162 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
الصفحة 149 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
الصفحة 149 - God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,— His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience,— That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
الصفحة 60 - Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
الصفحة 85 - My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it; Stands and lies by me, does what I have done; This too familiar care does make me rue it: No means I find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it be supprest.
الصفحة 36 - I cannot, I, no, no ! it will not be. This is the cause that I could never yet Hang on their sleeves that weigh, as thou mayst see, A chip of chance more than a pound of wit.
الصفحة 21 - LIKE to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, Or silver drops of morning dew, Or like a wind that chafes the flood, Or bubbles which on water stood : Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in and paid to-night.
الصفحة 174 - If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune.