Third period - From Dryden to CowperJames Nichol, 1860 |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Allan Ramsay arms bard beauty became Behold beneath bless blest bloom bonny born Braes of Yarrow breast breath busk Canynge charms clouds Cumnor dear death delight died divine Dr Johnson e'er Edinburgh eyes fair fame father fear Fingal flame flowers frae genius grace green grove hast head hear heart heaven hills Invermay Isaac Watts JAMES MACPHERSON JANE ELLIOT Jenny king light live Lochaber Lord maid married maun mild ale mind Monody morning mournful Muse nature's ne'er never night o'er Ossian peace Peggy poem poet poetical poetry Pope praise rose round scene scorn shade sigh sing Sir Charles smile soft song soul spirit spring Stephen Duck sweet Swift tears thee thine THOMAS CHATTERTON thou thought Twas verse virtue voice waves weep wife wind wrote Yarrow youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 146 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Сторінка 201 - Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line, which dying he could wish to blot.
Сторінка 145 - WEEP ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him: But weep sore for him that goeth away : For he shall return no more, Nor see his native country.
Сторінка 305 - E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move; And if so fair, from vanity as free, As firm in friendship, and as fond in love, — Tell them...
Сторінка 129 - My master carries me to church, And often am I blamed Because I leave him in the lurch As soon as text is named ; I leave the church in sermon-time And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Сторінка 305 - Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear: Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave : To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form : she bow'd to taste the wave, And died.
Сторінка 97 - Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
Сторінка 74 - I'll venture for the vole.) Six deans, they say, must bear the pall, (I wish I knew what king to call.; Madam, your husband will attend The funeral of so good a friend.
Сторінка 169 - Strong is the lion — like a coal His eyeball — like a bastion's mole His chest against the foes: Strong the gier-eagle on his sail, Strong against tide the enormous whale Emerges as he goes.
Сторінка 73 - Here shift the scene, to represent How those I love my death lament. Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay A week, and Arbuthnot a day. St John himself will scarce forbear To bite his pen, and drop a tear. The rest will give a shrug, and cry, ' I 'm sorry — but we all must die!