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 |
З цієї книги
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Сторінка 19
... doth burn my face ; I must remove . ” " Ah me , " quoth Venus , " young , and so unkind ! What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone ! I'll sigh celestial breath , whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending Sun ; I'll make a ...
... doth burn my face ; I must remove . ” " Ah me , " quoth Venus , " young , and so unkind ! What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone ! I'll sigh celestial breath , whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending Sun ; I'll make a ...
Сторінка 22
... doth pitch the price so high , That she will draw his lips ' rich treasure dry . And having felt the sweetness of the spoil , With blind - fold fury she begins to forage ; Her face doth reek and smoke , her blood doth boil , And ...
... doth pitch the price so high , That she will draw his lips ' rich treasure dry . And having felt the sweetness of the spoil , With blind - fold fury she begins to forage ; Her face doth reek and smoke , her blood doth boil , And ...
Сторінка 29
... doth express , And , wordless , so greets Heaven for his success . Far from the purpose of his coming thither , He makes excuses for his being there . No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear ...
... doth express , And , wordless , so greets Heaven for his success . Far from the purpose of his coming thither , He makes excuses for his being there . No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear ...
Сторінка 30
... doth confound and kill All pure effects , and doth so far proceed , That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed . Quoth he , " She took me kindly by the hand , And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes , Fearing some hard news from the ...
... doth confound and kill All pure effects , and doth so far proceed , That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed . Quoth he , " She took me kindly by the hand , And gaz'd for tidings in my eager eyes , Fearing some hard news from the ...
Сторінка 40
... doth bor- She throws her eyes about the painting , round , And whom she finds forlorn , she doth lament : At last she sees a wretched image bound , That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent ; His face , though full of cares , yet ...
... doth bor- She throws her eyes about the painting , round , And whom she finds forlorn , she doth lament : At last she sees a wretched image bound , That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent ; His face , though full of cares , yet ...
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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