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 1-2G. Wood, 1821 |
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الصفحة 29
... heart . And if an eye may save or slay , And strike more deep than weapon long ; And if an eye by subtle play , May move one more than any tongue How can ye say that I do wrong Thus to suspect without desert ? For the eye is traitor to ...
... heart . And if an eye may save or slay , And strike more deep than weapon long ; And if an eye by subtle play , May move one more than any tongue How can ye say that I do wrong Thus to suspect without desert ? For the eye is traitor to ...
الصفحة 30
... heart . But yet alas ! that look , all soul , That I do claim of right to have , Should not , methinks , go seek the school , To please all folk , for who can crave Friendlier thing than heart witsave By look to give in friendly part ...
... heart . But yet alas ! that look , all soul , That I do claim of right to have , Should not , methinks , go seek the school , To please all folk , for who can crave Friendlier thing than heart witsave By look to give in friendly part ...
الصفحة 31
... heart depart ; Then fears not the eye to shew the heart . The Lover despairing relinquisheth the pursuit . Whoso list to hunt ! I know where is a hind ! But as for me , alas ! I may no more , The vain pursuit hath wearied me so sore , I ...
... heart depart ; Then fears not the eye to shew the heart . The Lover despairing relinquisheth the pursuit . Whoso list to hunt ! I know where is a hind ! But as for me , alas ! I may no more , The vain pursuit hath wearied me so sore , I ...
الصفحة 32
... heart , with complaint that it will not break . Comfort thyself , my woeful heart , Or shortly on thyself thee wreak ; For length redoubleth deadly smart ; Why sighest thou , heart ! and wilt not break ? To waste in sighs were piteous ...
... heart , with complaint that it will not break . Comfort thyself , my woeful heart , Or shortly on thyself thee wreak ; For length redoubleth deadly smart ; Why sighest thou , heart ! and wilt not break ? To waste in sighs were piteous ...
الصفحة 36
... heart ; and me lust not report Blame by honour , and honour to desire . But how may I this honour now attain . What cannot dye the colour of black a liar ? My Poynz , I cannot frame my tongue to feign ; To cloak the truth for praise ...
... heart ; and me lust not report Blame by honour , and honour to desire . But how may I this honour now attain . What cannot dye the colour of black a liar ? My Poynz , I cannot frame my tongue to feign ; To cloak the truth for praise ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Albertus Morton appear beauty born breast bright Canterbury character charms court dear death delight divine dost doth dread Duncombe Earl earth Eclogues ev'ry eyes fair fame fear flame flowers gentle Gentleman's Magazine Giles Fletcher give grace grief groves hand happy hast hath Hawkesworth heart heaven honour John Duncombe John Lilly Kent Kentish King lady learned light live Lord lyre majesty mind muse never Nicholas Amhurst night nymphs o'er pain passion peace Phineas Fletcher plain poem poet poetical poetry pow'r praise pride Queen reign sacred shade shepherds shew shine sighs sight sing Sir Henry Wotton Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Wyatt smile soft song Sonnet soon soul stanza swain sweet tears thee thine thing Thirsil thou thought translation unto verse virtue whilst winds wings writer 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...