Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De VereAubrey Thomas De Vere 1858 |
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Сторінка 20
... died 1599. ] EDMOND SPENSER , descended from the ancient family of that name , was born in London about the year 1553. In 1569 he en- tered Pembroke College , Cambridge . He was the intimate friend of two of the greatest men who ...
... died 1599. ] EDMOND SPENSER , descended from the ancient family of that name , was born in London about the year 1553. In 1569 he en- tered Pembroke College , Cambridge . He was the intimate friend of two of the greatest men who ...
Сторінка 23
... dying dread , Hast wandred through the world now long a day , Yett ceassest not thy weary soles to lead ; What grace hath thee now hether brought this way ? Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting3 hether stray ? Straunge thing it is an ...
... dying dread , Hast wandred through the world now long a day , Yett ceassest not thy weary soles to lead ; What grace hath thee now hether brought this way ? Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting3 hether stray ? Straunge thing it is an ...
Сторінка 29
... dying day . O man ! have mind of that last bitter throw ; For as the tree does fall , so lyes it ever low . The sixt had charge of them now being dead , In seemely sort their corses to engrave , And deck with dainty flowres their ...
... dying day . O man ! have mind of that last bitter throw ; For as the tree does fall , so lyes it ever low . The sixt had charge of them now being dead , In seemely sort their corses to engrave , And deck with dainty flowres their ...
Сторінка 33
... dying paine . Till that great Lord of Love , which him at first Made of meere love , and after liked well , Seeing him lie , like creature long accurst , In that deep horror of despeysed hell , Him wretch in doole2 would let no longer ...
... dying paine . Till that great Lord of Love , which him at first Made of meere love , and after liked well , Seeing him lie , like creature long accurst , In that deep horror of despeysed hell , Him wretch in doole2 would let no longer ...
Сторінка 41
... died there in 1616 at the age of fifty - three . So indifferent to fame was Shake- speare , that , not only did he write nothing after he had left London , then in the fulness of his powers , but he took no pains to preserve those plays ...
... died there in 1616 at the age of fifty - three . So indifferent to fame was Shake- speare , that , not only did he write nothing after he had left London , then in the fulness of his powers , but he took no pains to preserve those plays ...
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed by a de Vere Aubrey De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2012 |
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beauty birds born breath bright bring clouds dark dead death deep delight died doth early earth eyes face fair fall fame fear field fire flowers friends give grace grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills honour hope hour human Italy king land learned leaves less light living look Lord mind morning mortal nature never night o'er once pass play pleasure poems poet poetry rest rich rise rocks rose round seems shade shine sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet tears Tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn voice walks wave wind wings woods youth
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Сторінка 253 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Сторінка 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Сторінка 252 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Сторінка 248 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Сторінка 47 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Сторінка 18 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Сторінка 94 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. 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 149 - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Сторінка 152 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Сторінка 44 - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.