Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
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Сторінка 9
As to be heard where ear is none , As lead to grave in marble stone , My song
may pierce her heart as soon : Should we then sing , or sigh , or moan ? No , no ,
my lute ! for I have done . The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves ...
As to be heard where ear is none , As lead to grave in marble stone , My song
may pierce her heart as soon : Should we then sing , or sigh , or moan ? No , no ,
my lute ! for I have done . The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves ...
Сторінка 13
God grant to those that white hairs have , No worse them take than I have meant ;
That after they be laid in grave , Their souls may joy their lives well spent . God
grant likewise that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be . THOMAS ...
God grant to those that white hairs have , No worse them take than I have meant ;
That after they be laid in grave , Their souls may joy their lives well spent . God
grant likewise that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be . THOMAS ...
Сторінка 20
... far from the grave of Chaucer . All the poets of the age attended his funeral ,
and threw verses into his grave . His great poem , long as it is , carries out but half
of the author ' s design . It has been believed by some that the SELECT POETRY
.
... far from the grave of Chaucer . All the poets of the age attended his funeral ,
and threw verses into his grave . His great poem , long as it is , carries out but half
of the author ' s design . It has been believed by some that the SELECT POETRY
.
Сторінка 22
... Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore ; Whose onely ioy was to
relieve the needes Of wretched soules , and helpe the helpelesse pore All night
she spent in bidding of her bedes , And all the day in doing good and godly
deedes .
... Through wisedome of a matrone grave and hore ; Whose onely ioy was to
relieve the needes Of wretched soules , and helpe the helpelesse pore All night
she spent in bidding of her bedes , And all the day in doing good and godly
deedes .
Сторінка 30
Thrise happy man , ” said then the father grave , " Whose staggering steps thy
steady hand doth lead , And shewes the way his sinfull soule to save ! Who better
can the way to Heaven aread Then thou thyselfe , that was both borne and bred
In ...
Thrise happy man , ” said then the father grave , " Whose staggering steps thy
steady hand doth lead , And shewes the way his sinfull soule to save ! Who better
can the way to Heaven aread Then thou thyselfe , that was both borne and bred
In ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
beauty birds blood born breath bright bring clouds court dark dead dear death deep delight died doth early earth eyes face fair fall fame fear field fire flowers give glory grace grave grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hill honour hope hour human Italy king land learning leaves less light living looks Lord mind morn mortal nature never night o'er once pass play pleasure poems poet poetry rest rich rise rocks rose round seems shine sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears Tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn unto voice wind wings woods youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 253 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Сторінка 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Сторінка 252 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Сторінка 248 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Сторінка 47 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Сторінка 18 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Сторінка 94 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. 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.
Сторінка 149 - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Сторінка 152 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Сторінка 44 - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Бібліографічна інформація
| Назва | Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
| Редактор | Aubrey Thomas De Vere |
| Опубліковано | 1858 |
| Оригінал із | Оксфордський університет |
| Оцифровано | 4 сер. 2006 |
| Експортувати бібліографічний опис | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |