Century Readings for a Course in English LiteratureJohn William Cunliffe, James Francis Augustin Pyre, James Francis Augustine Pyre, Karl Young Century Company, 1910 - 1143 стор. |
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Сторінка 26
... thou well , an I might live myself , the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me the king . Therefore , ' said Arthur unto Sir Bedivere , ' take thou Excalibur , my good sword , and go with it to yonder waterside , and when thou comest there ...
... thou well , an I might live myself , the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me the king . Therefore , ' said Arthur unto Sir Bedivere , ' take thou Excalibur , my good sword , and go with it to yonder waterside , and when thou comest there ...
Сторінка 29
... thou- sand knights , and each of them offered a pound ; and the offering dured from morn till night , and Sir Launcelot lay two 20 nights on his tomb in prayers and weep- ing . Then on the third day Sir Launcelot called the kings ...
... thou- sand knights , and each of them offered a pound ; and the offering dured from morn till night , and Sir Launcelot lay two 20 nights on his tomb in prayers and weep- ing . Then on the third day Sir Launcelot called the kings ...
Сторінка 32
... thou were head of all christian knights , and now I dare say , ' said Sir Ector , thou Sir Launcelot , there thou liest , that thou were never matched of earthly knight's hand . And thou were the courteoust knight that ever bare shield .
... thou were head of all christian knights , and now I dare say , ' said Sir Ector , thou Sir Launcelot , there thou liest , that thou were never matched of earthly knight's hand . And thou were the courteoust knight that ever bare shield .
Сторінка 39
... thou grew on a tree ! Ffor this day thou art my bale , My boote when thou shold bee ! ' 65 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott , The arrowe flew in vaine , And it mett one of the sheriffes men ; Good William a Trent was slaine ...
... thou grew on a tree ! Ffor this day thou art my bale , My boote when thou shold bee ! ' 65 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott , The arrowe flew in vaine , And it mett one of the sheriffes men ; Good William a Trent was slaine ...
Сторінка 40
... Thou were better then Robin Hood . 33. Tell me thy name , good ffellow , ' quoth Guy , 131 ' Under the leaves of lyne : ' Nay , by my faith , ' quoth good Robin , ' Till thou have told me thine . ' 34. I dwell by dale and downe ...
... Thou were better then Robin Hood . 33. Tell me thy name , good ffellow , ' quoth Guy , 131 ' Under the leaves of lyne : ' Nay , by my faith , ' quoth good Robin , ' Till thou have told me thine . ' 34. I dwell by dale and downe ...
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Century Readings for a Course in English Literature, Том 1 John William Cunliffe Повний перегляд - 1910 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Antistrophe beauty breath bright called church Church of England clouds dark dead dear death deep delight Demogorgon doth dream earth eyes fair fear feel fire flowers Gawaine gentle give glory grace Guenever hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven honor hope hour king King Arthur lady land leave light live look Lord Lucan the Butler mind nature never night noble nymph o'er pain passed passion pleasure poems poet poetry praise rest Robin Hood round Samian wine Semichorus sigh sight sing Sir Bedivere Sir Ector Sir Launcelot Sir Lucan Sir Mordred sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars sweet tears tell thee ther thine things thought tion truth unto verse weary ween weep wind wings words wyllowe youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 616 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear : 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !
Сторінка 527 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Сторінка 152 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, whereon it must expire, Consumed with that...
Сторінка 520 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Сторінка 565 - Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail : And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
Сторінка 240 - 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...
Сторінка 240 - 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 518 - These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms, Green to the very door: and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
Сторінка 565 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Сторінка 535 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long...