Home Pictures of English Poets, for Fireside and SchoolroomD. Appleton, 1869 - 291 стор. |
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... the year 1869 , by .... ... D. APPLETON & co . , In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York . · YOAREL PREFACE . THE writer , in the following Sketches of NEW YORK.
... the year 1869 , by .... ... D. APPLETON & co . , In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York . · YOAREL PREFACE . THE writer , in the following Sketches of NEW YORK.
Сторінка 3
Kate Sanborn. PREFACE . THE writer , in the following Sketches of our best English Poets , from old Father Chaucer to the short- lived Burns , has attempted to interest the young stu- dent by making of each life & story as well as a ...
Kate Sanborn. PREFACE . THE writer , in the following Sketches of our best English Poets , from old Father Chaucer to the short- lived Burns , has attempted to interest the young stu- dent by making of each life & story as well as a ...
Сторінка 10
... writer of those times describes a poor ploughman and his half - starved family . The man is in rags from head to foot ; " his ton ( toes ) toteden ( peeped ) out , " and his oxen are so starved that men might " reckon each a rib ...
... writer of those times describes a poor ploughman and his half - starved family . The man is in rags from head to foot ; " his ton ( toes ) toteden ( peeped ) out , " and his oxen are so starved that men might " reckon each a rib ...
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... as well as a fine writer . Listen for a moment to the burly landlord : " What man art thou ? quod he , Thou lookest as thou woldest find a hare ; For ever on the ground I see thee stare . 20 HOME PICTURES OF ENGLISH POETS .
... as well as a fine writer . Listen for a moment to the burly landlord : " What man art thou ? quod he , Thou lookest as thou woldest find a hare ; For ever on the ground I see thee stare . 20 HOME PICTURES OF ENGLISH POETS .
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... writing his greatest work in a pleasant home at Woodstock , receiving a liberal pension and a pitcher of wine daily from the cellar of the king . He died in 1400 , and was buried in Westminster Abbey , in what is now called the " Poet's ...
... writing his greatest work in a pleasant home at Woodstock , receiving a liberal pension and a pitcher of wine daily from the cellar of the king . He died in 1400 , and was buried in Westminster Abbey , in what is now called the " Poet's ...
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Addison admired Ballymahon beautiful better Burns called Canterbury Tales charming Chaucer child Cowper dear death delight Dryden England English English language eyes Faerie Queene fame father friends gave genius GEOFFREY CHAUCER give Goldsmith grace Griselda hand happy heart heaven honor Italy John Dryden Johnson king knew lady language laughed learned Lichfield literary live London look Lord Lycidas Milton mind moral mother nature never night o'er once Paradise Lost Petrarch play pleasant poem poet poetry poor Pope praise Puritan Queen rhyme SAMUEL JOHNSON satire says seemed Shakespeare sing smile song soon soul Spenser spent story style sweet Swift Tabard tears tell tender thee thing thou thought tion told took Twickenham verse Virgil walk Westminster Abbey wife woman words wretched writing wrote young
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Сторінка 275 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Сторінка 205 - Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour.
Сторінка 72 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Сторінка 222 - There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd 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...
Сторінка 74 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And, with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew, Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Сторінка 222 - Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew; 'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge...
Сторінка 275 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or, rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Сторінка 248 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Сторінка 278 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Сторінка 241 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...