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 18
... thou coy ? " I have been woo'd , as I entreat thee now , Even by the stern and direful god of war , Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow , Who conquers where he comes , in every jar ; Yet hath he been my captive and my slave , And ...
... thou coy ? " I have been woo'd , as I entreat thee now , Even by the stern and direful god of war , Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow , Who conquers where he comes , in every jar ; Yet hath he been my captive and my slave , And ...
Сторінка 19
... thou thyself art dead ; And so in spite of death thou do'st survive , In that thy likeness still is left alive . ” By this , the love - sick queen began to sweat , For , where they lay , the shadow had forsook them , And Titan , tired ...
... thou thyself art dead ; And so in spite of death thou do'st survive , In that thy likeness still is left alive . ” By this , the love - sick queen began to sweat , For , where they lay , the shadow had forsook them , And Titan , tired ...
Сторінка 23
... thou shalt not rise : To make thee hate the hunting of the boar , Unlike thyself , thou hear'st me moralize , Applying this to that , and so to so ; For love can comment upon every woe . " Where did I leave ? " - " No matter where ...
... thou shalt not rise : To make thee hate the hunting of the boar , Unlike thyself , thou hear'st me moralize , Applying this to that , and so to so ; For love can comment upon every woe . " Where did I leave ? " - " No matter where ...
Сторінка 25
... thou should'st strike at it- O yes , it may ; thou 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 ...
... thou should'st strike at it- O yes , it may ; thou 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 ...
Сторінка 32
... thou mean to chide : Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night , Where thou with patience must my will abide , My will that marks thee for my earth's deligät , Which I to conquer sought with all my might ; But as reproof and reason ...
... thou mean to chide : Thy beauty hath ensnar'd thee to this night , Where thou with patience must my will abide , My will that marks thee for my earth's deligät , Which I to conquer sought with all my might ; But as reproof and reason ...
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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