Specimens of the Early English Poets, المجلد 1 |
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الصفحة 8
... are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be . This gift alone I shall her give ,
When death doth what he can Her honeft fame shall ever live Within the mouth of
man . 1 A MAN may live thrice Nestor's life , Thrice wander 8 ANONYMOUS .
... are plain but chaff Which seem good corn to be . This gift alone I shall her give ,
When death doth what he can Her honeft fame shall ever live Within the mouth of
man . 1 A MAN may live thrice Nestor's life , Thrice wander 8 ANONYMOUS .
الصفحة 9
A MAN may live thrice Nestor's life , Thrice wander out Ulysses ' race , Yet never
find Ulysses ' wife ; Such change hath chanced in this case ! Less age will serve
than Paris had , Small pain ( if none be small enow ) To find good store of ...
A MAN may live thrice Nestor's life , Thrice wander out Ulysses ' race , Yet never
find Ulysses ' wife ; Such change hath chanced in this case ! Less age will serve
than Paris had , Small pain ( if none be small enow ) To find good store of ...
الصفحة 10
SEE I there is no fort Of things that live in grief , Which at some time may not
resort , Whereas they find relief . The chaced deer hath foil , To cool him in his
heat ; The ass , after his weary toil , In ftable is up set . The coney hath its cave ,
The little ...
SEE I there is no fort Of things that live in grief , Which at some time may not
resort , Whereas they find relief . The chaced deer hath foil , To cool him in his
heat ; The ass , after his weary toil , In ftable is up set . The coney hath its cave ,
The little ...
الصفحة 12
Till at the end , when Cupid fpied My scornful will , and spiteful use , And how I
paft not who was tied , So that myself might ftill live loose ; He fet himself to lie in
wait , And in my way he threw a bait . Such one as Nature never made , I dare
well ...
Till at the end , when Cupid fpied My scornful will , and spiteful use , And how I
paft not who was tied , So that myself might ftill live loose ; He fet himself to lie in
wait , And in my way he threw a bait . Such one as Nature never made , I dare
well ...
الصفحة 20
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls , Or have them luftily trould , God
save the lives of them and their wives , Whether they be young Back and fide , & c
. or old . I QUEEN ELIZABETH . GEORGE GASCOIGNE . A frange PASSION 20 ...
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls , Or have them luftily trould , God
save the lives of them and their wives , Whether they be young Back and fide , & c
. or old . I QUEEN ELIZABETH . GEORGE GASCOIGNE . A frange PASSION 20 ...
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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.