Kentish Poets: A Series of Writers in English Poetry, Natives of Or Residents in the County of Kent; with Specimens of Their Compositions, and Some Account of Their Lives and Writings, المجلدات 1-2 |
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الصفحة 15
Come on now my Lord of London , — what is my abominable and vicious living ?
Do ye know it ? - or have ye heard it ? I grant I do not profess chastity ; but yet I
use no abomination . If ye know it , tell it here , with whom , and when ? If ye
heard ...
Come on now my Lord of London , — what is my abominable and vicious living ?
Do ye know it ? - or have ye heard it ? I grant I do not profess chastity ; but yet I
use no abomination . If ye know it , tell it here , with whom , and when ? If ye
heard ...
الصفحة 166
... no country I can tell the like , that it is as seldom to see a stranger abused there
, as it is rare to see any well - used elsewhere ; yet presume not too much of the
courtesy of them , for they differ in nature ; some are hot , some cold ; onë simple
...
... no country I can tell the like , that it is as seldom to see a stranger abused there
, as it is rare to see any well - used elsewhere ; yet presume not too much of the
courtesy of them , for they differ in nature ; some are hot , some cold ; onë simple
...
الصفحة 299
Where is that heart bestow ' d Which hides it from that breast which dear it deem '
d , And to that heart room in his heart allow ' d ? That love was never love but only
seem ' d ! Tell me , my Thomalin , what envious thief Thus robs thy joy ; tell me ...
Where is that heart bestow ' d Which hides it from that breast which dear it deem '
d , And to that heart room in his heart allow ' d ? That love was never love but only
seem ' d ! Tell me , my Thomalin , what envious thief Thus robs thy joy ; tell me ...
الصفحة 98
It needs to be once read only , to be for ever fixed in all poetic memories . Go
lovely rose , Tell her that wastes her time , and me , That now she knows , When I
resemble her to thee , How sweet and fair she seems to be ! Tell her that ' s
young ...
It needs to be once read only , to be for ever fixed in all poetic memories . Go
lovely rose , Tell her that wastes her time , and me , That now she knows , When I
resemble her to thee , How sweet and fair she seems to be ! Tell her that ' s
young ...
الصفحة 400
But if my words still fouler shame may heap On this curst head of my relentless
foe , I ' ll tell thee all — though , while I tell , I weep . I know not who thou art , I
know not how Thou cam ' st down hither ; but of Tuscan race Thou art , so
stranger ...
But if my words still fouler shame may heap On this curst head of my relentless
foe , I ' ll tell thee all — though , while I tell , I weep . I know not who thou art , I
know not how Thou cam ' st down hither ; but of Tuscan race Thou art , so
stranger ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
appear bear beauty born bright called character court dear death delight desire divine doth Earl earth English eyes face fair fall father fear fire give grace hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour hope John Kent kind King lady late learned leave letter light live look Lord means mind muse nature never night o'er once original pain pass passion peace perhaps person plain play poem poet poetical praise present published Queen rest rich rise round sacred seems shade Sidney sight sing song soon soul sound speak spring sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought translation true verse virtue whole winds wish writer written young youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 192 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
الصفحة 249 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will, Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
الصفحة 61 - 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 23 - And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay ! And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In wealth and woe among : And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay...
الصفحة 147 - Shepherds, weep no more ! For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
الصفحة 184 - At cards for kisses — Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on's cheek (but none knows how), With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me? THE SONGS OF BIRDS What bird so sings, yet...
الصفحة 21 - Now cease, my lute, this is the last Labour, that thou and I shall waste; And ended is that we begun : Now is this song both sung and past; My lute, be still, for I have done.
الصفحة 250 - Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters...
الصفحة 246 - Nature seem'd in love: The lusty sap began to move; Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, And birds had drawn their valentines, The jealous Trout, that low did lie, Rose at a well dissembled fly; There stood my friend with patient skill, Attending of his trembling quill.
الصفحة 215 - ... the wood, That warble forth Dame Nature's lays, Thinking your passions understood By your weak accents; what's your praise, When Philomel her voice shall raise? You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own, What are you, when the Rose is blown? So when my Mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not designed Th' eclipse and glory...