The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper, Том 5Alexander Chalmers J. Johnson, 1810 |
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Сторінка 22
... blood doth boil , And careless Just stirs up a desperate courage ; Planting oblivion , beating reason back , Forgetting shame's pure blush , and honour's wrack . Hot , faint , and weary , with her hard embracing , Like a wild bird being ...
... blood doth boil , And careless Just stirs up a desperate courage ; Planting oblivion , beating reason back , Forgetting shame's pure blush , and honour's wrack . Hot , faint , and weary , with her hard embracing , Like a wild bird being ...
Сторінка 23
... blood upon the fresh flowers being shed , Doth make them droop with grief , and hang the head . " What should I do , seeing thee so indeed , That trembling at th ' imagination , The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed ? And ...
... blood upon the fresh flowers being shed , Doth make them droop with grief , and hang the head . " What should I do , seeing thee so indeed , That trembling at th ' imagination , The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed ? And ...
Сторінка 25
... blood being mingled both together , A second fear through all her sinews spread , Which madly hurries her she knows not whither ; This way she runs , and now she will no further , But back retires , to rate the boar for murder . A ...
... blood being mingled both together , A second fear through all her sinews spread , Which madly hurries her she knows not whither ; This way she runs , and now she will no further , But back retires , to rate the boar for murder . A ...
Сторінка 26
... blood , and seem'd with him to bleed . This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth ; Over one shoulder doth she hang her head ; Dumbly she passions , franticly she doteth ; She thinks he could not die , he is not dead . Her voice is stopp'd ...
... blood , and seem'd with him to bleed . This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth ; Over one shoulder doth she hang her head ; Dumbly she passions , franticly she doteth ; She thinks he could not die , he is not dead . Her voice is stopp'd ...
Сторінка 27
... blood . " Here was thy father's bed , here in my breast ; Thou art the next of blood , and ' t is thy right : Lo ! in this hollow cradle take thy rest , My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night : There shall not be one minute of ...
... blood . " Here was thy father's bed , here in my breast ; Thou art the next of blood , and ' t is thy right : Lo ! in this hollow cradle take thy rest , My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night : There shall not be one minute of ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
angels bear beasts beauty Ben Jonson blood bloud body breath breed brest COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court dare dead dear death didst disdaine Donne dost doth Earth ELEGY eyes face fair fall falne fame farre fear fire flames foes friends give glory God's grace grief grone hand hate hath haue heart Heaven Hell honour horrour JOHN DONNE king light liv'd live look Lord loue lov'd love's lust mind Muse never night nought once paine pleasure poet poison'd poor pow'r praise prince rage rais'd rest SATIRE III SATIRE VI Satires scape scorne seem'd shame sight sinne sonne SONNET soul sprite straight strange Sunne sweet tears terrour thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true twixt unto us'd verse vex'd virtue Whil'st wrath wretched
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Сторінка 46 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Сторінка 56 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Сторінка 69 - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!
Сторінка 451 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon and an English man-of-war. Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, 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 198 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Сторінка 69 - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Сторінка 71 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither ! Here shall we see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i...
Сторінка 55 - The forward violet thus did I chide ; — Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
Сторінка 59 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
Сторінка 55 - From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him: Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...