The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper;: Shakspeare, Davies, Donne, Hall, Stirling, Jonson, Corbet, Carew, DrummondSamuel Johnson J. Johnson; J. Nichols and son; R. Baldwin; F. and C. Rivington; W. Otridge and Son; Leigh and Sotheby; R. Faulder and Son; G. Nicol and Son; T. Payne; G. Robinson; Wilkie and Robinson; C. Davies; T. Egerton; Scatcherd and Letterman; J. Walker; Vernor, Hood, and Sharpe; R. Lea; J. Nunn; Lackington, Allen, and Company; J. Stockdale; Cuthell and Martin; Clarke and Sons; J. White and Company; Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme; Cadell and Davies; J. Barker; John Richardson; J.M. Richardson; J. Carpenter; B. Crosby; E. Jeffery; J. Murray; W. Miller; J. and A. Arch; Black, Parry, and Kingsbury; J. Booker; S. Bagster; J. Harding; J. Mackinlay; J. Hatchard; R.H. Evans; Matthews and Leigh; J. Mawman; J. Booth; J. Asperne; P. and W. Wynne; and W. Grace, Deighton and Son at Cambridge; and Wilson and Son at York, 1810 |
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Сторінка 19
... breath , whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending Sun ; I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs ; If they burn too , I'll quench them with my tears . " The Sun that shines from Heaven , shines but warm , And lo , I lie ...
... breath , whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending Sun ; I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs ; If they burn too , I'll quench them with my tears . " The Sun that shines from Heaven , shines but warm , And lo , I lie ...
Сторінка 21
... breath . " Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd ? Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth ? If springing things be any jot diminish'd , They wither in their prime , prove nothing worth : The colt that's back'd and burthen'd ...
... breath . " Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd ? Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth ? If springing things be any jot diminish'd , They wither in their prime , prove nothing worth : The colt that's back'd and burthen'd ...
Сторінка 25
... breath , Who when he liv'd , his breath and beauty set Gloss on the rose , smell to the violet ? " If he be dead - O no , it cannot be , Seeing his beauty , thou should'st strike at it- O yes , it may ; thou hast no eyes to see , But ...
... breath , Who when he liv'd , his breath and beauty set Gloss on the rose , smell to the violet ? " If he be dead - O no , it cannot be , Seeing his beauty , thou should'st strike at it- O yes , it may ; thou hast no eyes to see , But ...
Сторінка 29
... breath , a froth of fleeting joy : Who buys a minute's mirth , to wail a week ? Or sells eternity , to get a toy ? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy ? Or what fond beggar , but to touch the crown , Would with the sceptre ...
... breath , a froth of fleeting joy : Who buys a minute's mirth , to wail a week ? Or sells eternity , to get a toy ? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy ? Or what fond beggar , but to touch the crown , Would with the sceptre ...
Сторінка 31
... breath ; O modest wantons ! wanton modesty ! Showing life's triumph in the map of death , And death's dim look in life's mortality . Each in her sleep themselves so beautify , As if between them twain there were no strife , But that ...
... breath ; O modest wantons ! wanton modesty ! Showing life's triumph in the map of death , And death's dim look in life's mortality . Each in her sleep themselves so beautify , As if between them twain there were no strife , But that ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
angels Antinous bear beasts beauty BEN JONSON bloud body breath brest COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court dance dead dear death delight disdaine Donne dost doth Earth errour ev'ry eyes face fair falne false fame fear fire foes foul give glory God's grace grief grone hand hate hath haue hear heart Heaven Hell honour JOHN DONNE king kiss light live look Lord loue lov'd love's Lucrece lust mind Muse never night nought once pain pleasure poison'd poor pow'r praise prince quoth rage SATIRE SATIRE IV SATIRE VII scape scorn seem'd sense Shakspeare shalt shame sighs sight sinne sonne SONNET soul sprite straight strange Sunne sweet tears thee thence thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue true truth twixt unto virtue weep Whil'st wilt wind wretched