English Prose and Verse from Beowulf to StevensonHenry Spackman Pancoast H. Holt, 1915 - 816 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 5
... sound from the deep . Quickly their hero's helmet they loosened , Unbuckled his breastplate . The blood - stained waves Fell to a calm ' neath the quiet sky . 1630 1635 Back they returned o'er the tracks with the footprints , Merrily ...
... sound from the deep . Quickly their hero's helmet they loosened , Unbuckled his breastplate . The blood - stained waves Fell to a calm ' neath the quiet sky . 1630 1635 Back they returned o'er the tracks with the footprints , Merrily ...
الصفحة 10
... sound , Many were the mead - halls , full of mirth of men , Till the strong - willed Wyrd whirled that all to change ! In a slaughter wide they fell , woeful days of bale came on ; Famine - death fortook fortitude from men ; 20 All ...
... sound , Many were the mead - halls , full of mirth of men , Till the strong - willed Wyrd whirled that all to change ! In a slaughter wide they fell , woeful days of bale came on ; Famine - death fortook fortitude from men ; 20 All ...
الصفحة 29
... sound , So built that they shall never fall ; Nor miner sap them underground , Nor shock e'er shake the eternal wall ; Cure for each wound therein is found , Bliss , joy and song , fill all that hall . The joys that do therein abound ...
... sound , So built that they shall never fall ; Nor miner sap them underground , Nor shock e'er shake the eternal wall ; Cure for each wound therein is found , Bliss , joy and song , fill all that hall . The joys that do therein abound ...
الصفحة 30
... sound of thy harsh sputtering . " The Owl abode till it grew late . Eve came , she could no longer wait ; Her heart began to swell and strain Till scarce she could her breath contain . Half choked with rage , these words she flung ...
... sound of thy harsh sputtering . " The Owl abode till it grew late . Eve came , she could no longer wait ; Her heart began to swell and strain Till scarce she could her breath contain . Half choked with rage , these words she flung ...
الصفحة 32
... sound the pris . A hundred devils , in a row , Drag him with ropes toward the abyss , The loathly flames are seen below , The mouth of hell it was , I wis . 425 430 When once that dread abode is won , The fiends set up so loud a yell 7 ...
... sound the pris . A hundred devils , in a row , Drag him with ropes toward the abyss , The loathly flames are seen below , The mouth of hell it was , I wis . 425 430 When once that dread abode is won , The fiends set up so loud a yell 7 ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Allan-a-Dale Bargrave battle beauty behold Beowulf Binnorie Boethius breast breath called dark dead dear death delight doth dread Duke of Bedford earth England English eyes fair father fear fire flowers glory grace hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holy honour hour king King Arthur lady land Layamon learning leave light live look Lord mind morning nature never night noble o'er pain pass pleasure poem poet poor praise pray pride prince quoth rich round Saladin Shakespeare sigh sight sing Sir Bedivere Sir Ector Sir Kay Sir Lucan Sir Mordred sleep song sorrow soul spirit sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat tion Twas unto Veal ween weep wind wise words youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 429 - Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
الصفحة 306 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
الصفحة 521 - I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain, when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, 80 ••I silently laugh at my own cenotaph.
الصفحة 494 - Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover! And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A...
الصفحة 494 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
الصفحة 480 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...
الصفحة 497 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied : Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar...
الصفحة 509 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
الصفحة 163 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
الصفحة 519 - Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy ! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?