The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical ... |
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الصفحة 21
Witheth that still he might b'imprisoned : Yet grace , if thou repent , thou canst not
lack ; II . But who shall give thee that grace to begin ? As doe by many titles , I
resign Oh ! make thyfelf with holy mourning black , Myself to thee , O God !
Witheth that still he might b'imprisoned : Yet grace , if thou repent , thou canst not
lack ; II . But who shall give thee that grace to begin ? As doe by many titles , I
resign Oh ! make thyfelf with holy mourning black , Myself to thee , O God !
الصفحة 45
For that fair blefled Mother - maid , O think me worth thine anger ; punih me ,
Whose flesh redeem'd us , ( that he cherubim , Burn off my ruft , and my deformity
; Which unlock'd Paradise , and made Restore thine image so much by thy grace
...
For that fair blefled Mother - maid , O think me worth thine anger ; punih me ,
Whose flesh redeem'd us , ( that he cherubim , Burn off my ruft , and my deformity
; Which unlock'd Paradise , and made Restore thine image so much by thy grace
...
الصفحة 72
For as by infant years men judge of age , Admired march ! where frives in n utual
grace l'hy early love thy virtues did presage The cunning pencil and the comely
face ; What high part thou bear'ft in those best of A task which thy fair goodness ...
For as by infant years men judge of age , Admired march ! where frives in n utual
grace l'hy early love thy virtues did presage The cunning pencil and the comely
face ; What high part thou bear'ft in those best of A task which thy fair goodness ...
الصفحة 81
Who dreamt devoutlier than most use to pray ; Honour may have pretence unto
our love , Who being here fill'd with grace , yet Itrove to be Because that God did
live so long above Both where more grace and more capacity Without this honour
...
Who dreamt devoutlier than most use to pray ; Honour may have pretence unto
our love , Who being here fill'd with grace , yet Itrove to be Because that God did
live so long above Both where more grace and more capacity Without this honour
...
الصفحة 87
One whom thy blow makes not ours nor thineown : Grace was in her extremely
diligent , She was more stories high : hopeless to come That kept her from fin , yet
made her repent . To her foul , thou hast offer'd at her lower room . Of what small
...
One whom thy blow makes not ours nor thineown : Grace was in her extremely
diligent , She was more stories high : hopeless to come That kept her from fin , yet
made her repent . To her foul , thou hast offer'd at her lower room . Of what small
...
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arms bear beauty beſt better blood body bring brought cauſe comes courſe court crown dead death doth earth eyes face fair fall fame fear fight fire firſt force foul friends give glory grace grief grow hand hate hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf hold honour hope keep king land laſt late learned leave leſs light live look Lord mind moſt move muſe muſt nature never night once pain plain play poor pow'r praiſe prince reſt round ſame ſay ſee ſeem ſet ſhall ſhe ſhould ſince ſome ſoul ſpring ſtand ſtate ſtay ſtill ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine things thoſe thou thought true turn unto virtue whole whoſe worth wound wrong
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 541 - 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 540 - While we can, the sports of love. Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain. Suns that set may rise again: But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
الصفحة 594 - IF I freely may discover What would please me in my lover, I would have her fair and witty, Savouring more of court than city ; A little proud, but full of pity ; Light and humorous in her toying ; Oft...
الصفحة 537 - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further to make thee a room; Thou art a monument, without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
الصفحة 35 - When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain (For graves have learned that womanhead To be to more than one a bed), And he that digs it spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone...
الصفحة 547 - No, Both wills were in one stature ; And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made Flesh indeed, And took on him our nature. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of Glory ! To see this babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence : Can man forget this...
الصفحة 594 - Though I am young and cannot tell Either what Death or Love is well, Yet, I have heard they both bear darts, And both do aim at human hearts : And then again, I have been told, Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold ; So that I fear they do but bring Extremes to touch, and mean one thing. As in a ruin we it call One thing to be blown up or fall ; Or to our end, like way may have By...
الصفحة 32 - To move, but doth, if th' other do. And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.
الصفحة 25 - Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late schoolboys and sour prentices; Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
الصفحة 522 - Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father, now! For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have so soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage, And, if no other misery, yet age! Rest in soft peace; and, asked, say: Here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry...
معلومات المراجع
| العنوان | The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical ... المجلد 4 من The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Robert Anderson |
| المُحرر | Robert Anderson |
| الناشر | Arch, 1795 |
| أصلي من | مكتبة نيويورك العامة |
| الكتب ذات التنسيق الرقمي | 4 تشرين الأول (أكتوبر) 2006 |
| تصدير الاقتباس | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |