The English Poets, المجلد 2Thomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1880 |
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الصفحة 10
... breath she blows them up to heaven . She wears a robe enchased with eagles ' eyes , To signify her sight in mysteries : Upon each shoulder sits a milk - white dove , And at her feet do witty serpents move : Her spacious arms do reach ...
... breath she blows them up to heaven . She wears a robe enchased with eagles ' eyes , To signify her sight in mysteries : Upon each shoulder sits a milk - white dove , And at her feet do witty serpents move : Her spacious arms do reach ...
الصفحة 23
... complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest it be thought the breath Of discontent ; or that these prayers be For weariness of life , not love of Thee . WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . [ WILLIAM DRUMMOND was born BEN JONSON . 23.
... complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest it be thought the breath Of discontent ; or that these prayers be For weariness of life , not love of Thee . WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN . [ WILLIAM DRUMMOND was born BEN JONSON . 23.
الصفحة 36
... breath , For late - born sorrows augur fleet return . Amidst thy sacred cares and courtly toils , Alexis , when thou shalt hear wand'ring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal spoils , And that on earth I am but a sad name ; If ...
... breath , For late - born sorrows augur fleet return . Amidst thy sacred cares and courtly toils , Alexis , when thou shalt hear wand'ring Fame Tell Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal spoils , And that on earth I am but a sad name ; If ...
الصفحة 39
... breath . Now judge which of us two might be most proud ; He got a kiss yet not enjoy'd it right , And I got none , yet tasted that delight Which Venus on Adonis once bestow'd : He only got the body of a kiss , And I the soul of it ...
... breath . Now judge which of us two might be most proud ; He got a kiss yet not enjoy'd it right , And I got none , yet tasted that delight Which Venus on Adonis once bestow'd : He only got the body of a kiss , And I the soul of it ...
الصفحة 41
... breath Who live assured of nothing but of death ? Who was so happy yet As never had some cross ? Though on a throne he sit , And is not vexed with loss , Yet fortune once will toss Him , when that least he would ; If one had all at once ...
... breath Who live assured of nothing but of death ? Who was so happy yet As never had some cross ? Though on a throne he sit , And is not vexed with loss , Yet fortune once will toss Him , when that least he would ; If one had all at once ...
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley crown death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Inner Temple Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poetic poetry praise reign rose sacred shade shalt shepherds shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 14 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And 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.
الصفحة 337 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
الصفحة 218 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
الصفحة 178 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
الصفحة 218 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, poor captives, creep to death.
الصفحة 454 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
الصفحة 311 - And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
الصفحة 357 - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal spring.
الصفحة 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
الصفحة 20 - And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines, Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art, My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.