The Golden Pomp: A Procession of English Lyrics from Surrey to ShirleyArthur Quiller-Couch Methuen, 1895 - 382 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة viii
... brings ' through and on to Roses , their sharp spines being gone , Not royal in their smells alone , But in their hue ' ; ' The glories of our blood and state Are shadows , not substantial things . ' My aim , however , was not to ...
... brings ' through and on to Roses , their sharp spines being gone , Not royal in their smells alone , But in their hue ' ; ' The glories of our blood and state Are shadows , not substantial things . ' My aim , however , was not to ...
الصفحة 4
... bring into this grove My Love , to hear and recompense my love . Fair King , who all preserves , But show thy blushing beams , And thou two sweeter eyes Shalt see than those which by Penéus ' streams Did once thy heart surprise : Nay ...
... bring into this grove My Love , to hear and recompense my love . Fair King , who all preserves , But show thy blushing beams , And thou two sweeter eyes Shalt see than those which by Penéus ' streams Did once thy heart surprise : Nay ...
الصفحة 9
... bring in May . A deal of youth , ere this , is come Back , and with white - thorn laden home . Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream , Before that we have left to dream : 9 And some have wept and woo'd , and plighted troth , And ...
... bring in May . A deal of youth , ere this , is come Back , and with white - thorn laden home . Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream , Before that we have left to dream : 9 And some have wept and woo'd , and plighted troth , And ...
الصفحة 24
... bring , A petty triumph for his brow , Who is the Master of our spring And all the bloom we owe.1 James Shirley . XXX A ROUND SHAKE off your heavy trance ! And leap into a dance Such as no mortals use to tread ; Fit only for Apollo To ...
... bring , A petty triumph for his brow , Who is the Master of our spring And all the bloom we owe.1 James Shirley . XXX A ROUND SHAKE off your heavy trance ! And leap into a dance Such as no mortals use to tread ; Fit only for Apollo To ...
الصفحة 32
... Bring me but one , I'll promise thee , Instead of common showers , Thy wings shall be embalm'd by me , And all beset with flowers . Herrick . PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON 33 XXXIX PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON In the 32 32 THE GOLDEN POMP.
... Bring me but one , I'll promise thee , Instead of common showers , Thy wings shall be embalm'd by me , And all beset with flowers . Herrick . PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON 33 XXXIX PHYLLIDA AND CORYDON In the 32 32 THE GOLDEN POMP.
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Anon ANTHONY HOPE Author babe Baring Gould beauty behold birds Book of Airs bright Buckram Campion Corydon Crown 8vo cuckoo dear death delight dost doth E. F. BENSON earth England's Helicon English eyes fair fairy-queen fear flowers GILBERT PARKER Gordon Browne grace green Greensleeves grief H. C. BEECHING hath heart heaven Heigh Herrick honour Illustrated JOHN KEBLE Jonson king kiss Lady leave light lips live look Lord Love's lovers lullaby Madrigals maid merry MESSRS METHUEN'S LIST mind morn never night nonny pity pleasure poem praise pretty Prisoner of Zenda Queen rose Shakespeare shepherd sighs sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spring stanzas story swain tears Tereu thee thine things thou art thou hast thought true love unto verse volume W. E. HENLEY W. G. COLLINGWOOD waly wanton weep wind winter youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 116 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
الصفحة 22 - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds, of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight ; The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men, for thus sings he :Cuckoo ; Cuckoo, cuckoo...
الصفحة 199 - How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness everywhere! And yet this time removed was summer's time; The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widow'd wombs after their lords...
الصفحة 275 - A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
الصفحة 142 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
الصفحة 245 - And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white, When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow ; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
الصفحة 41 - 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.
الصفحة 245 - 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 105 - As it fell upon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made...
الصفحة 172 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown...