Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
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Сторінка 3
If he was the “ Morning Star " of English poetry , he was not less the Evening Star
of the Middle Ages . He is the memorial of what England was in the old Catholic
times , and a token of what her literature , then commencing , would have been ...
If he was the “ Morning Star " of English poetry , he was not less the Evening Star
of the Middle Ages . He is the memorial of what England was in the old Catholic
times , and a token of what her literature , then commencing , would have been ...
Сторінка 8
Thou haven of refúte , 42 bright star of day ! Rue43 on my child , that of thy
gentleness Ruest on every rueful in distress . O little child , alas ! what is thy guilt ,
That never wroughtest sin as yet , pardíe ? Why will thine hardé father have thee
spilt ...
Thou haven of refúte , 42 bright star of day ! Rue43 on my child , that of thy
gentleness Ruest on every rueful in distress . O little child , alas ! what is thy guilt ,
That never wroughtest sin as yet , pardíe ? Why will thine hardé father have thee
spilt ...
Сторінка 19
... ring strong , Where mightier do assault than do defend , The feebler part puts
up enforced wrong , And silent sees that speech could not amend : Yet higher
powers must think , though they repine , When sun is set , the little stars will shine
.
... ring strong , Where mightier do assault than do defend , The feebler part puts
up enforced wrong , And silent sees that speech could not amend : Yet higher
powers must think , though they repine , When sun is set , the little stars will shine
.
Сторінка 51
Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds , Or bends with the remover
to remove : O no ! it is an ever - fixed mark , That looks on tempests , and is never
shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark , Whose worth ' s unknown ...
Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds , Or bends with the remover
to remove : O no ! it is an ever - fixed mark , That looks on tempests , and is never
shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark , Whose worth ' s unknown ...
Сторінка 58
Toss up your heads , ye everlasting gates , And let the Prince of Glory enter in ; At
whose brave volley of sidereal states , The Sun to blush , and stars grow pale
were seen ; When , leaping first from Earth , he did begin To climb his angels ...
Toss up your heads , ye everlasting gates , And let the Prince of Glory enter in ; At
whose brave volley of sidereal states , The Sun to blush , and stars grow pale
were seen ; When , leaping first from Earth , he did begin To climb his angels ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed by a de Vere Aubrey De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2012 |
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 |