Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed, an Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language,Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1811 |
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Сторінка 5
... perhaps deservedly , disregarded . - The most favourable sample of his Majesty's poe- tic skill has been lately obtained from the College library , Edinburgh , and will be found in the follow- ing page . It is prefixed to Fowler's ...
... perhaps deservedly , disregarded . - The most favourable sample of his Majesty's poe- tic skill has been lately obtained from the College library , Edinburgh , and will be found in the follow- ing page . It is prefixed to Fowler's ...
Сторінка 8
... perhaps , above all , the singularities of his feelings , cloathed in an uncommon quaintness of style , " have contributed to render it , even to modern readers , 66 a valuable repository of amusement and information . " Burton was fond ...
... perhaps , above all , the singularities of his feelings , cloathed in an uncommon quaintness of style , " have contributed to render it , even to modern readers , 66 a valuable repository of amusement and information . " Burton was fond ...
Сторінка 19
... perhaps his will , Did guide the god of love that way . The crafty boy , that sees her sleep , Whom , if she wak'd , he durst not see , Behind her closely seeks to creep , Before her nap should ended be . There come , he steals her ...
... perhaps his will , Did guide the god of love that way . The crafty boy , that sees her sleep , Whom , if she wak'd , he durst not see , Behind her closely seeks to creep , Before her nap should ended be . There come , he steals her ...
Сторінка 109
... Than may fitly sweeten wrath ; Full of pity as may be , Though , perhaps , not so to me . Reason masters every sense , And her virtues grace her birth ; Lovely as all excellence , Modest in her most of WILLIAM BROWNE . 109.
... Than may fitly sweeten wrath ; Full of pity as may be , Though , perhaps , not so to me . Reason masters every sense , And her virtues grace her birth ; Lovely as all excellence , Modest in her most of WILLIAM BROWNE . 109.
Сторінка 121
... , extracted from his " Shepherd's Ora- " cles , " 1646 , 4to . will perhaps be thought worth preser- ving , as they describe with some humour the taste of the Puritans . Song of Anarchus . KNOW then , my brethren , [ 121 ]
... , extracted from his " Shepherd's Ora- " cles , " 1646 , 4to . will perhaps be thought worth preser- ving , as they describe with some humour the taste of the Puritans . Song of Anarchus . KNOW then , my brethren , [ 121 ]
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Specimens of the Early English Poets: To which is Prefixed an ..., Том 3 George Ellis Повний перегляд - 1803 |
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Admet ALPHEUS FELCH Anon Beaumont and Fletcher beauty beauty's Biographia Dramatica birds born breast breath Carew Castara chaste Chloris Corpus Christi College court Cupid dear death delight died disdain dost doth earth Edgar Atheling English Exeter College extracted eyes fair fancy fate fear flame Fletcher flowers folly FRANCIS BEAUMONT GILES FLETCHER grace grief happy hath hear heart heaven honour John Hall joys king kiss Laius language leave lips live lord lov'd Love's Love's cruelty lover maid MATTHEW STEVENSON melancholy mind miscellany mistress morning Muses ne'er never night nymph o'er Oxford passion Phillis Picts pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride printed reign rose Saxon says Wood scorn sighs sing smile SONG SONNET sorrow soul spring stanzas star sweet taste tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought unto wanton weep Whilst wind wings youth
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Сторінка 244 - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Сторінка 31 - 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 278 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage ; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage : If I have freedom in my love, And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty.
Сторінка 275 - TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, — That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, dear, so much. Loved I not honour more.
Сторінка 277 - Prison WHEN Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates — When I lie tangled in her hair And fettered to her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Сторінка 194 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Сторінка 132 - 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 85 - I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve! If she slight me, when I woo, I can scorn, and let her go! For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be?
Сторінка 222 - Now the bright Morning Star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Сторінка 63 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.