Studies in English poetry [an anthology] with biogr. sketches and notes by J. PayneJoseph Payne 1859 |
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... head , The deep - mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way , And faint , from farther distance borne , Were heard the clanging hoof and horn . As chief , who hears his warder call , " To arms ! the foemen storm the wall ...
... head , The deep - mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way , And faint , from farther distance borne , Were heard the clanging hoof and horn . As chief , who hears his warder call , " To arms ! the foemen storm the wall ...
Сторінка 13
... head : Thrust forward the spears , and unsheaf every knife- St. George ! he's upon us ! Now fire , lads , for life ! He's wounded - but yet he'll draw blood ere he falls- Ha ! under his paw see Bezuidenhout sprawls- Now Diederik ...
... head : Thrust forward the spears , and unsheaf every knife- St. George ! he's upon us ! Now fire , lads , for life ! He's wounded - but yet he'll draw blood ere he falls- Ha ! under his paw see Bezuidenhout sprawls- Now Diederik ...
Сторінка 16
Joseph Payne. THE SPANISH CHAMPION , 1 THE warrior bowed his crested head , and tamed his heart of fire , And sued the haughty king to free his long - imprisoned sire , ' I bring thee here my fortress keys , 3 I bring my captive train ...
Joseph Payne. THE SPANISH CHAMPION , 1 THE warrior bowed his crested head , and tamed his heart of fire , And sued the haughty king to free his long - imprisoned sire , ' I bring thee here my fortress keys , 3 I bring my captive train ...
Сторінка 17
... my sire ! Give me back him for whom I strove , for whom my blood was shed , - Thou canst not - and a king ? -His dust be mountains on thy head ! " C He loosed the steed ; his slack hand fell , STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY . 17.
... my sire ! Give me back him for whom I strove , for whom my blood was shed , - Thou canst not - and a king ? -His dust be mountains on thy head ! " C He loosed the steed ; his slack hand fell , STUDIES IN ENGLISH POETRY . 17.
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... head , but in what manner the Egyptian priests contrived this " juggle " -for such it doubtless was - is unknown . ( 7 ) Juggle - probably from the Latin jocus , a joke or sport , whence joculor joculator , and the old Anglo - Norman ...
... head , but in what manner the Egyptian priests contrived this " juggle " -for such it doubtless was - is unknown . ( 7 ) Juggle - probably from the Latin jocus , a joke or sport , whence joculor joculator , and the old Anglo - Norman ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
allusion ancient Anglo-Saxon ARTHUR HALL beam beauty bells Ben Jonson beneath blest bliss breast breath bright Cæsar called charm Chaucer cloth clouds Cowper crown dark death deep delight doth earth Edition English ENGLISH POETRY eternal eyes Faerie Faerie Queene fair fame fancy Fcap fear flowers gilt edges glory golden grace Greece Grongar Hill hand hast hath heart heaven hills honour Il Penseroso Illustrations JOHN CUMMING king Latin light lines living Lord Lycidas Milton mind morning mountain muse nature never night numbers o'er Paradise Paradise Lost pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Post 8vo praise pride Queen rills rise rocks Rome round says scene shade Shakspere silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stanza star stream sweet tears thee thine thou thought vale verse voice wave wild winds wings Woodcuts word
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Сторінка 84 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Сторінка 70 - Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath; Who envies none that chance doth raise, Nor vice; who never understood How deepest wounds are given by praise, Nor rules of state, but rules of good; Who hath his life from rumours freed; Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great; Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless...
Сторінка 198 - And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A Traveller between life and death ; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.
Сторінка 316 - And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Сторінка 304 - Weep no more, woeful 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 : So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves.
Сторінка 65 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, 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...
Сторінка 301 - And all their echoes, mourn. The Willows, and the Hazel Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the Canker to the Rose, Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze, Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the White-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherd's ear.
Сторінка 279 - Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
Сторінка 301 - Ay me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Сторінка 280 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle. I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii. — Look ! in this place, ran Cassius...