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 23
... hast on foot the purblind hare , Mark the poor wretch to overshut his troubles , How he out - runs the wind , and with what care He cranks and crosses , with a thousand doubles : The many musits through the which he goes , Are like a ...
... hast on foot the purblind hare , Mark the poor wretch to overshut his troubles , How he out - runs the wind , and with what care He cranks and crosses , with a thousand doubles : The many musits through the which he goes , Are like a ...
Сторінка 25
... hast no eyes to see , But hatefully at random dost thou hit . Thy mark is feeble age ; but thy false dart Mistakes that aim , and cleaves an infant's heart . " Hadst thou but bid beware , then he had spoke , And hearing him , thy power ...
... hast no eyes to see , But hatefully at random dost thou hit . Thy mark is feeble age ; but thy false dart Mistakes that aim , and cleaves an infant's heart . " Hadst thou but bid beware , then he had spoke , And hearing him , thy power ...
Сторінка 32
... hast pretended ; Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee ; Mar not the thing that cannot be amended ; End thy ill aim , before thy shoot be ended : He is no wood - man that doth bend his bow To strike a poor unseasonable doe . " My ...
... hast pretended ; Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee ; Mar not the thing that cannot be amended ; End thy ill aim , before thy shoot be ended : He is no wood - man that doth bend his bow To strike a poor unseasonable doe . " My ...
Сторінка 42
... hast here depriv'd . If in the child the father's image lies , Where shall I live , now Lucrece is unliv'd ? Thou wast not to this end from me deriv'd . If children pre - decease progenitors , We are their offspring , and they none of ...
... hast here depriv'd . If in the child the father's image lies , Where shall I live , now Lucrece is unliv'd ? Thou wast not to this end from me deriv'd . If children pre - decease progenitors , We are their offspring , and they none of ...
Сторінка 46
... parts of me to thee did give ; That due of many now is thine alone : Their images I lov'd , I view in thee , And thou ( all they ) hast all the all of me . SONNET XXXII . If thou survive my well - contented 46 SHAKSPEARE'S POEMS .
... parts of me to thee did give ; That due of many now is thine alone : Their images I lov'd , I view in thee , And thou ( all they ) hast all the all of me . SONNET XXXII . If thou survive my well - contented 46 SHAKSPEARE'S POEMS .
Зміст
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705 | |
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