Specimens of the Early English Poets, المجلد 1 |
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الصفحة 1
And thereto hath a truth as just , As had Penelope the fair ; For what she faith , ye
may it trust , As it by writing sealed were . And virtues hath she many moe Than I
with pen have kill to show . I could rehearse , if that I would , The whole effect of ...
And thereto hath a truth as just , As had Penelope the fair ; For what she faith , ye
may it trust , As it by writing sealed were . And virtues hath she many moe Than I
with pen have kill to show . I could rehearse , if that I would , The whole effect of ...
الصفحة 2
... Sith Nature thus gave her the praise , To be the chiefest work she wrought ; In
faith , methinks , some better ways On your behalf might well be fought , Than to
compare ( as ye have done ) To match the candle with the sun . O D E. The soote
...
... Sith Nature thus gave her the praise , To be the chiefest work she wrought ; In
faith , methinks , some better ways On your behalf might well be fought , Than to
compare ( as ye have done ) To match the candle with the sun . O D E. The soote
...
الصفحة 6
Thus may'st thou fafely say and swear That rigour reigns where truth doth fail , In
thankless thoughts thy thoughts do wear , Thy truth thy faith may not avail For thy
good - will . Why shouldst thou so Still graft where grace it will not grow ?
Thus may'st thou fafely say and swear That rigour reigns where truth doth fail , In
thankless thoughts thy thoughts do wear , Thy truth thy faith may not avail For thy
good - will . Why shouldst thou so Still graft where grace it will not grow ?
الصفحة 10
Thy body was the garden - place , And sugar'd words it beareth ; The blossoms
all , thy faith it was , Which , as the canker , weareth . The caterpillar is the same
That hath won thee , and lost thy name . SEE I there is no fort Of things that live in
...
Thy body was the garden - place , And sugar'd words it beareth ; The blossoms
all , thy faith it was , Which , as the canker , weareth . The caterpillar is the same
That hath won thee , and lost thy name . SEE I there is no fort Of things that live in
...
الصفحة 14
... no more , A new the cure did undertake , Wherefore do ' way , you come too
late . fake ; you made me gape , For whilft you knew I was your own , So long in
vain And though my faith it were well known , Yet small regard you took thereat .
... no more , A new the cure did undertake , Wherefore do ' way , you come too
late . fake ; you made me gape , For whilft you knew I was your own , So long in
vain And though my faith it were well known , Yet small regard you took thereat .
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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
arms beauty begin beſt birds bluſh breaſt breath bring cheek comes dear death delight deſire doth earth eyes face fair faith fall fate fear fighs fight fing fire firſt flame flowers give gone grace grief grow hand happy hath head hear heart heav'n hope hour joys kind kiſs laſt late leave light live look loſe love's lovers maid meet melancholy mind morn move muſt nature ne'er never night nymph once pain paſſion play pleaſure poems poor prove reſt roſe ſay ſee ſeems ſhall ſhe ſhepherd ſhould ſing ſmile ſome SONG ſoul ſpring ſtill ſuch ſweet tears Tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought thouſand true wanton Whilft whoſe wind wings yield youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 114 - 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. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
الصفحة 262 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
الصفحة 262 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
الصفحة 189 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
الصفحة 31 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
الصفحة 256 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
الصفحة 138 - 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 30 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit ; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
الصفحة 257 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
الصفحة 257 - As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.