A poetry-book of elder poets, selected and arranged by A. B. EdwardsAmelia Ann Blanford Edwards 1879 |
من داخل الكتاب
النتائج 1-5 من 31
الصفحة 9
... play , the shepherds pipe all day , And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay , Cuckoo , jug - jug , pu - we , to - witta - woo . The fields breathe sweet , the daisies kiss our feet , Young lovers meet , old wives a sunning sit , In ...
... play , the shepherds pipe all day , And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay , Cuckoo , jug - jug , pu - we , to - witta - woo . The fields breathe sweet , the daisies kiss our feet , Young lovers meet , old wives a sunning sit , In ...
الصفحة 15
... play'd At cards for kisses ; Cupid paid : He stakes his quiver , bow , and arrows , His mother's doves , and team of sparrows ; Loses them too ; then down he throws The coral of his lip , the rose Growing on's cheek ( but none knows how ) ...
... play'd At cards for kisses ; Cupid paid : He stakes his quiver , bow , and arrows , His mother's doves , and team of sparrows ; Loses them too ; then down he throws The coral of his lip , the rose Growing on's cheek ( but none knows how ) ...
الصفحة 23
... Playing in the wanton air : Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen ' gan passage find ; That the lover , sick to death , Wish'd himself the heaven's breath . " Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ...
... Playing in the wanton air : Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen ' gan passage find ; That the lover , sick to death , Wish'd himself the heaven's breath . " Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ...
الصفحة 36
... playing on the steep Where your old bards , the famous Druids , lie , Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high , Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : Ay me ! I fondly dream— Had ye been there - for what could that have done ? What ...
... playing on the steep Where your old bards , the famous Druids , lie , Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high , Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : Ay me ! I fondly dream— Had ye been there - for what could that have done ? What ...
الصفحة 38
... play'd . It was that fatal and perfidious bark Built in the eclipse , and rigg'd with curses dark , That sunk so low that sacred head of thine . Next Camus , reverend sire , went footing slow , His mantle hairy , and his bonnet sedge ...
... play'd . It was that fatal and perfidious bark Built in the eclipse , and rigg'd with curses dark , That sunk so low that sacred head of thine . Next Camus , reverend sire , went footing slow , His mantle hairy , and his bonnet sedge ...
المحتوى
3 | |
10 | |
16 | |
22 | |
25 | |
42 | |
55 | |
61 | |
67 | |
75 | |
82 | |
89 | |
91 | |
95 | |
101 | |
107 | |
108 | |
113 | |
120 | |
122 | |
136 | |
159 | |
165 | |
229 | |
241 | |
245 | |
249 | |
251 | |
257 | |
267 | |
273 | |
280 | |
281 | |
284 | |
286 | |
291 | |
294 | |
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
ALEXANDER SELKIRK AULD ROBIN GRAY BATTLE OF AGINCOURT Beaumont beauty birds breath bright CHRIST'S NATIVITY dear death doth earth Elder Poets ELEGY ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA Eurydice eyes fair fear Fletcher flower golden good-morrow grave green grief grove hand hast hath hear heart heaven Helen honour INVERMAY King Kirconnell kiss ladies land light Line live Lord LOVE'S LOVER Lycidas lyre Milton MORNING OF CHRIST'S Mother mourn Muse Nanny ne'er never night nightingale Noroway notes numbers nymph o'er Osiris pain PATRICK SPENCE Phillida flouts Philomela pleasure poem praise Procne rose sad cypress Sally satyrs shade Shakespeare shepherds shine sigh sing SIR PATRICK SPENCE sleep smiling SONG sorrow soul sound spring stars stream swain sweet tears tell Tereus Thammuz thee things tree unto Verse voice wanton warble weep wilt thou winds wings Yarrow youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 39 - But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
الصفحة 85 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine ; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But O, sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower ? Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what love did seek.
الصفحة 19 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
الصفحة 117 - When Love with unconfine'd wings Hovers within my Gates ; And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the Grates : When I lie tangled in her hair, And fetter'd to her eye ; The Birds, that wanton in the Air, Know no such Liberty.
الصفحة 73 - Tu-who, a merry note, 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...
الصفحة 139 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
الصفحة 272 - tis said) Before was never made But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung ; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
الصفحة 37 - His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? Alas ! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
الصفحة 274 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
الصفحة 201 - Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.