The Elizabethan Lyrists and Their PoetryG. G. Harrap, 1913 - 147 стор. |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Astrophel and Stella AWAKENING SONG Beaumont beauty Ben Jonson birds Campion Court Cynthia's Revels dead death delight desires do gain died doth Earl earth Elizabeth Elizabethan lyrics England English eyes fair Samela fame favour flowers Francis Beaumont fresh gave give GOLDEN SLUMBERS grace Greville grief happy heart Heaven honour Jonson king lady literary live London Lord love a shepherd Love good-morrow loves such sweet lute Lyly LYRISTS Marlowe mediæval merry mind night noney Oxford passion Penelope Devereux Phylida Phyllis hath pity plays pleasure poems poetry poets praise Queen Raleigh reign Robert Greene roses says seems Shakespeare Sidney's sing Sir Philip Sidney Sir Thomas Monson sleep Song Books sonnets sorrow soul Spenser spirit Spring sweet Content taverns Tell thee thine things Thomas Thomas Nash thought tuneful University wits verse Weep William Henry Hudson willow willow writing wrote youth
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Сторінка 131 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against Fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Сторінка 45 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies : How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks ; thy languish! grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Сторінка 81 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.
Сторінка 79 - Full little knowest thou that hast not tried What hell it is in suing long to bide; To lose good days that might be better spent, To waste long nights in pensive discontent, To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow, To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow, To have thy prince's grace yet want her Peers...
Сторінка 108 - Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet : Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast ; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye?
Сторінка 80 - 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...
Сторінка 127 - Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow ; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Сторінка 118 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whom they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life...
Сторінка 118 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare with the English man-ofwar, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Сторінка 98 - THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE COME live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields.